Burtha Poem by William Reading

The Night stands on a path between two hills
Breathing heavy, surrounded by The Forest
The hills form a valley
Path is uneven and many have walked it before

He is focused now—on climbing
Around him, The Forest spans in all directions
He knows not where either hill goes
The Trees obstruct his vision all around
Distant, beautiful sounds can be heard:
Men, birds, and the like

Where do these hills go
He desires his destination,
But how should he get there
One could be shorter
The other might be quite the opposite

How the stream quietly slaloms
Into the unknown!
The Forest
It goes through Path
And as he feels Path under his feet
He becomes one with Water underneath

A choice needs to be made
He feels engulfed by The Forest,
This speck of land in the middle of nowhere in particular
It will not hold him for long
A choice must be made

Insects fly about
Buzzing in his ear, around his head
They might as well be inside his brain, his thoughts
A bee sucks the nectar out of an innocent flower
Shadows lurch around every obstacle

He yearns for help! From whom?
He cannot stand the insects,
The language of the birds is alien to him,
And the shadows are mere imitations

One step towards a hill
He notices the sharp bend in Path in front of him
The trees are majestic

He turns to the other hill,
Just as mysterious as its brother
And marches
Feels Path, becomes Path, lives Path
His steps become faster

Heartbeat soaring
The pace picks up, becomes a run
No turning back
A sprint
Treacherous holes
New Trees
Shadows
Birds fly away disgruntled
Insects are startled by the annoyance
An end is near

Bursting out, he sees it, feels it
The Sun
The warmth, the wind
Flying to the unknown, embracing it
He sets out to The Light