The merest of isolations

With the purity of a newborn soul

I glide through the woods, 

sureptitiously,

As I allow the innocent melodies, 

to tickle my ears.

I allow myself to breathe,

in and out,

That is all I must do in this nature, 

oh so gracious!

The virtuous mother glorified the surroundings,

As she glorified me with the precious

breath of air.

So I stood.

In the middle and stared.

I stared through the naked branches. 

I stared at the face in the sky,

as it stared back at me,

like the eye of the Cyclopse 

under a magnifying lense.

There I stood...