GUEST POST // My Forest by Purple Creature

Walking in my forest, huge trees are blocking the light,
I am walking, and now cannot see.
I hear creatures stirring on the forest floor,
Crawling over my feet, hissing in my ear, they are all around me,
I fucking fear…

My heart is racing, my fear is growing,
I want to run, so fast, I can’t think straight,
I want to leave this God forsaken place, as fast as I can.
I am alone, I am bruised and battered, I cannot win this fight.
I have done this to myself, for I have walked into the forest willingly,
Knowing what the forest beholds…

Ego… self-righteousness, false confidence,
call it what the Fuck you want,
I am here now, me, in the darkness, in the forest…
Dealing with it… badly.
More creatures, of all shapes and sizes are coming out.
Noises are getting louder, hisses, are getting louder…
The forest is alive I realize, a breathing, living being of blackness,
Tears are its food, Fear is its oxygen.

Then, in the distance, I see a faint light, fluttering in the forest.
It’s waiting for me, calling for me, like a beacon in the night…
Has it always been here… Have I just been blinded by my despair,
That I haven’t seen what has been in front of me, all this time…
I concentrate on the light, and follow it through the forest,
ignoring all else…
It’s just me and the light…
Before I know it, I am out of the forest and into the light,
with cascading waterfalls,
And beautiful flowers and colors everywhere…

The light, I realized, is the most beautiful, colorful, exotic,
butterfly I have ever seen,
The butterfly gazed at me one last time, smiled, winked at me,
and flew away, into the sky.

A single tear formed in my eye, and over flowed down my cheek.
Thank you, sweet butterfly,
For waiting for me,
For staying with me,
For guiding me out of my despair… out of my forest.

by PURPLE CREATURE
© All rights reserved 2015

the Pythia

How have I perfected the smoky oracle-art?
I too often set on fire my credulous heart
and tried to read a nonexistent story.
When my core became cold and hoary
I finished cheating myself with these air-built hopes
and got a job in the Temple of Apollo on the Delphi slopes.

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2015

Where nobody is…

Time will turn new walls into old.
Bright colors will be covered by mold.
There are wide slipshod dabs
On grey befouled slabs.

A mural securely stores
All our dreams and hopes.
The shadows of feats and wins
In the house where nobody is…

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2014