Here I fell asleep.
In our descent from the hill
we encountered both dark and light.
Had journeyed hard,
into the wood.
A crack, that of pain,
greeted us
as
though to warn others:
our instinct telling us
to go forward as to what stood in front
were friends.
Swearing loyalty to the tree god,
we posted sentries,
while around us the air shook
with ancient noises,
mutinous ones from the deep.
Telling no-one, I wrote this
at the last hour of night,
doing so hurriedly
and without thought.
Finished, I put my ear
to the ground, heard a bell tower
summon demons to rest;
and before I could look again,
the sun warmed the cold grass on my face
and the earth upon my feet.