Sacred Forests

Sacred native forests remain enraptured in souls shadowing mysterious nature's silence. Or when so deluged and brisk winded, stormed to rage wild absence of restraint overpowering more domesticated sounds of commodifying busyness, diesel fueled 18-wheelers carrying walky-talky caffeine flying drivers, warning blares of commerce's trains for those without bodies and brains to move away from rumbling dust river of busy tracks. Native forests speak sacred wilderness power through all five senses. I cannot see a sacred forest singing I Did It My Way, or My Way Or The HighWay appropriate anthems in their less bird-songed place, yes, but not sacred lusty psalms of organic notes for and from native forests, where sacred sights sound naturally right and smell absent of stinky busy fright, and taste and feel recycling peace.