Through virgin forests

And unplucked gems

Twisted vines

Thoughts do stem.

Stroll through winding trails

And I’m nearly planted

By the weight of glory

Pressing me into the earth.

Almost sprouting roots

And taking up residence

In the innocence of things green.

Step back, run home

Think about this maybe forever,

Famous last words.

In my comfort zone,

Where nothing satisfies

And nothing is better than me

Lenses only blur

And spinning the reel

Only lengthens distance between

Me and dreams of late.

Where my appetite can consume,

Crunching through anything

To enjoy a fleeting taste

Of something not even real.

Next time I’ll do it

I will spread roots deep

Shoot my everything

Into the richness of the soil

The only true kingdom on earth.

Keep my ideals high

So I can’t taint or splinter

Keep my foundation low

So I can stand upon it.

Finally find somewhere

For my teeth to be defeated

Turned to dust by a truth

So much harder than themselves.

– Vagabond Prophet

 Thank you @josy57 for the prompt “Virgin Forests”