Kanawhan Arbors

One year in H*ll and three years in Purgatory From the burning wastelands to the frigid cold Walking on blisters and dreaming of the sun Lost in the darkness, lost in the night On the rim of the forsaken was a forest The wind whistled through the trees above Voices in the distance, light among the shadows Strong were the roots held tightly in the ground About them was peace beyond words A respite from the cold and dark Drawing from the earth, prosperous in the rain The gift of the trees was protection, or redemption? I walked among them one evening and there was a glow Far away from my shackles and torment Safe passage? Forgivness? Was this the light? I stole away from my prison and there was life there Life to fill my heart and soul and the trees were silent They know of the pain and cry their leaves in sorrow For the passing of the season, for the little death in us all Their wisdom is simple, rebirth is but a cycle Though it pains them so for every year they die Waiting to be reborn again with the season They saved me, the trees on the edge of Purgatory Their leaves are the fallen martyrs Teaching the lesson of the Kanawhan Arbors