Scampering in the dark forest

Dark shadow streak in the forest, swift and silent.

The trees bend slightly, whispering of its passing.

Moonlight catches only glimpses, then swallows them whole. A presence unseen but felt, pressing against the night.

Footsteps dissolve into damp earth, leaving no trace.

Something watches, something moves, yet nothing lingers.

Recent Posts

Within the silent labyrinths of the psyche, there is a landscape memory not wholly our own, pulsing through us like the echo of ancient...

Namaste—the Messiah in me sees the Messiah in you. Not the polished, pious version, but the wild fire that walked among the forgotten. I...

We are told that Jesus wept, and from this we carve entire solemn theologies of grief. But where is the gospel that records his...