Next to the willow tree,

There's a spot of golden green moss.

A stream pushes through.

Nymphs and satyrs play together

As I sit to be content with my soul.

Lightning and thunder came along,

My heart a trembling leaf bathed

With raindrops of loud resonating certainty.

Their clarity water brings, undeniable:

I see his soul.

The man with a spark of Odin.

In his eyes a fire burning within.

A heart, molted gold, diamantine.

Obsidian blade cutting through.

My forest heart,

My jaguar scarred soul.

Gently stayed, spellbound by

His unwilling spell.

An Acer leaf in his hands.

Gentle hands have known war.

Hunger, dark, death, strife.

I ran, but jaguar caught up with me,

Carrying me back by the neck,

Sharp fangs tearing up the skin.

My sky pours out, and I bleed, gods I bleed.

He won't believe my words. No.

But he will see my skies above him,

My greenery sheltering him from rain,

My fire keeping him warm at night,

My touch keeping the horrors at bay,

The wars I've fought, the battles I've lost.

He won't know, no.

If only he knew, though, as I bleed

How terrified I am of my own heart

Little sweet tiny leaf

Trembling in his hands.

Written by https://www.threads.com/@aurorablackpelt

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