The Mystic Silence Of The Pine Forest

I make sporadic visits to the mountain, the usual track is shepherds' pathway,    
smooth and mild, smelling meek sheep, and stern shepherds, and a watchful dog.    
The mystic forest keeps a godly silence, wrapped in misty veil; bending deeply    
in meditation,steady and motionless.    
   
What secrets does it keep, what riddles upon which does it sleep, where will its small veins    
Travel, and how does it breath in what we exhale,? even the birds nestle, live within,    
hardly a chirp is head, among the foliage or a Scream is yelled    
inside its trunk......    
   
The pine forest lies only roughly a mile from home, the village forest is 15 minutes walk,    
where the path left by shepherds and flocks makes it easy to tread, tender earth lowers slightly    
under my feet.A welcoming vibe invites a spirit to get insightful scan, a mild obedience,    
to the master of the world; to those who walk slowly, tenderly lest the former dead turn in their graves,    
lest the little creatures get unknowingly killed,pulverized with some senseless selfish spirits...    
   
Earth is sacred, the blood of the ancient spirits is running in every spot,    
in every tree, in every sap and grass.in every drop of water.We think we won't die,    
as we are awake, strong and writing our sickness " death,; the unpredictable stalker,    
lying low around the corner,,just think that this earth is the end of our bones,    
the sepulchre of our souls, the shrine of our spirits....the source of our poetry    
if we are sincere and truthful to ourselves.............    
   
And i take the beaten track skipping like a grasshopper, the mountain is calling,    
like an inviting melody of pan, sounding in the high hills, among the cliffs    
it sways in the ethereal breeze...    
Heartfeltly do i enjoy the pastoral hike,, earlier this morning as i hopped like a joyful cricket,    
into the woods thinking in shallow thoughts about the Fall, as the day starts    
to grow colder than August's.    
   
It is September again, and the school vocabulary begins to float over my head.. will leave October come into fight with September upon my mood, as memories and childhood make one man, one life reminiscent of halcyon short days, boys? we lived much more than adults, and joys were as big as the mountains' age..  


  https://youtu.be/iHFy98hLPRw?t=2367