The Forest's Hush Poem by Tor Magnor Solvang

The great unknown, the forest's hush,
No holy book, no sacred rush.
No doctrine speaks of fur and feet,
Just earthly dust, or something sweet.

For some, a spirit, wise and old,
A guardian of stories told.
In ancient lands, by river's flow,
A sacred trust, for all to know.

They walk with grace, with honest heart,
A living lesson, set apart.
They teach of earth, of care and need,
A gentle whisper, planting seed.

For others, fear, a shadowed gaze,
A creature lost in mystic haze.
No mention made in sacred word,
Of whispers heard, or tales preferred.

Some link to giants, long ago,
But scholars say, it's seeds they sow
Of fancy's bloom, on shaky ground,
Where logic's truth cannot be found.

Perhaps a spirit, wild and free,
Or darkness playing, meant to be
A passing thought, a lost design,
To pull us from the truly divine.

Or maybe, if the world should find,
A wonder rare, of God's own mind.
A creature grand, a hidden art,
But keep our focus, hold our heart.