Back Sliding
In the quiet moments of the forest,
when the sun sinks behind the old trees,
shadows stretch across the mossy ground,
and the heart whispers secrets in the wind,
I find myself teetering on the edge of yesterday,
where old habits linger like ghosts in the twilight,
the memory of a crow’s call echoing in my mind.
I once roamed the wild, fierce and free,
every howl was a promise to the moon,
every breath a vow to the untamed night,
but the call of familiar paths is a siren’s song,
calling me back to the comfort of the known,
to the warmth of old wounds that never truly heal,
where the raven danced in the shadows of my heart.
I remember the taste of freedom, sharp and sweet,
the thrill of the chase, the rush of the hunt,
But here I stand at the crossroads of determination,
where the echoes of my past envelop me,
like a well-worn cloak heavy with memories,
the cawing of the raven beckoning me closer,
a reminder of the bond we once shared.
In the stillness of the twilight hour,
I struggle with the shadows whispering my name,
the urge to retreat to the safety of solitude,
to slip back into the cocoon of complacency,
where the world is small and the risks are mitigated,
but the heart knows, the heart remembers well,
the raven’s laughter, a rambling melody.
So I breathe in the space between the trees,
where hope glows like a candle in the dark,
And I choose to step forward into the unknown,
to embrace the uncertainty of our reunion,
to dance with the fading daylight,
even if it means stumbling on this path,
even if it means falling into the depths of trust.
For in the ascent I find my strength,
and in the journey back to the raven,
I recover my soul, plaited with feathers and fur,
a wildness arras, a song of the night,
where the wolf and the raven, once separate,
now soar together, in a harmony of freedom,
bound by the whispers of the forest heart.
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