deep within the forest the secrets of the healers remain hidden magical spores, infused with the elixir of life, float upon the woodland air taking root at the foot of the ancients the giants stand vigil protecting and preserving the healing elixir in days of old, shaman harvested and cultivated the magic roots, healing their people, but the shaman of yesteryear are gone and with progress came the great rift separating the ancients the ancients claw up through the rift stretching to heal their wounds and reconnect with their kind yet the rift remains layer upon layer of hardened sand, rock, and gravel severing the ancients deep within the forest, if you listen closely, you can still hear the cries of their sorrow howling in the wind
there is no one left to protect the woodland the elixir of life hangs in the balance
Hello friends, I'm back! I hope you enjoyed this prose poem. It serves as the prologue in my book, A Conspiracy of Witches. The book is still in the edit stage, but I hope to work on it moreconsistently and share my progress with you. I plan to use my blog to post about my writing and spiritual journey and share my poetry. I hope you'll join me.