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The Guardian of Mosses

I am the forest,

the guardian of mosses;

my crown blooms every year in spring.

You are a guest here,

minding your footsteps

waiting for what I will show.

If you listen, I will tell you

secrets older than your bloodline;

I can tell you

about the moon when she was young.

I can tell you

if you keep searching

you may still find that which you’ve lost,

but I can tell you

that it will not look the same.

Skins change;

My bones of forest branches

may break a thousand times

but my marrow always finds another nest.

My children must keep growing,

so their skins consume each other

in infinite hunger;

prey becomes predator

then predator prey.

They are my children,

I love them all;

but I am their queen

and I am ruthless.

I may shelter the lost

or may devour them,

but their marrow will find another nest.

That which you have lost remains

but it is no longer your own.


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