The Journey To The Forest

I dreamed I was a butterfly with purple spots and wings was born right near the Lorelei that's where the fisher sings. Set free one day, above the cliff I soared to cloudy skies my wings at first felt very stiff and tears fell from my eyes. I did not mean to let them go so let my body drop by now I'd reached the river Po and needed a brief stop. I sat upon a thistle tree it had such pretty flowers it was not shy and talked to me we whiled away the hours. The thistle tree talked of the woods where life is always real where wolves and hawks and Robin Hoods compete for every meal. I could not wait and rose with grace wings pointed to the trees and at the edge, among some lace I met a hive of bees. 'Please, pretty little butterfly stay out from darkness here the forest is where critters cry and many die of fear.' I disregarded this advice and passed the talking brook I've heard that honeybees tell lies and I was no dumb sook. There was a tree so tall and big I asked 'Are you an oak? ' And he extended a small twig which did in me evoke a smile at all this friendliness I shook the little twig and thought it would be nearly bliss to live within the wig that this big oak had grown up high to shelter birds and spiders the words from bees came back so why had I not seen the hiders the ones that hunt and kill for lust most notably at night I asked again, he said 'you must be told about your right to live a life without the stress of fearing for your life that's why I've grown so tall, God bless and saved from cruel strife a hundred birds and other things they've made their home with me and even though they do have wings they are not really free. Behind each bush there stands a beast who wants to maim and kill the forest is the Devil's Feast that's why it is so still.' 'Do you advise, ' I asked again 'that I go to the Rhine where frogs and storks and fishermen abscond with what is mine? ' 'I do suggest, ' the big oak said 'that you look in your heart it is not often that one's head makes choices that are smart. I welcome you to my plain tree the forest is my home but happiness, if you ask me is like a little gnome. Its size is small and ridicule is easily assigned but only a pathetic fool would miss the kindly mind. So stay my friend, light up the leaves and make yourself a nest and in those wonderful late eves our song will help you rest.'