Thursday, February 10, 2005

Forest Storm

I had an experience outdoors tonight that would have changed my life if it had happened twenty years ago. Now it once more confirmed beyond doubt... what I already know.

Below the poem you can also read one great interpretation of it.


I rest on my back
On the dry forest bed
During yet another storm
I look up
As the wind
Catches the treetops
making them paint
Patterns in the sky

I walk among the trees
I hear them cringe and squeak
I hear them cry out
In the Storm

I rest on my belly
On the wet forest bed
During the stormy rain
I look down
As the water
Catches the soft soil
Painting beautiful images
On the ground

I crawl among the trees
Bathing in their blood
I feel them growing
In the rain

There is a ghost
Of an echo
In the depth of the forest
In the stinking moors
In the moist space
Between the trees

I run through the forest
In pitch darkness
Stepping in-between
The dry twigs
On the ground
The dry twigs
Crying a warning
To my rapidly moving feet

In a recess
Somewhere in shadow
There is no sound
But the whispering trees
I go there
And I hear the silence
Of the raging Storm
I rush towards the open spot
In the forest
Never forgetting
The quiet darkness
In the shadows

Amos Keppler February 2005
(western christian time-frame)

One reader's great interpretation:

"I love the feeling you create of the forest as a living being. And as if it is all in dream or alternate reality. An experience diametrically opposed to civilization. The forest is part of us, and we are part of it. It is ridiculous and criminal to think that we can ever be fully separated. We are one with the forest and should be experiencing it all of our days. We must never forget the shadows".