Through a Forest, Darkly
while suspicions steal
past towering giants
whose leaves hiss danger.
Boughs asunder with weight of dread,
sense your sly, subjective gloom.
A haunted conscience
the soul's twilight
in the light of the moon.
Text and Image c 2008 Lynda Lehmann
This image and poem are just a little bit of mischief or shall we say, antic play. I often wonder how much of the anxiety that we are so deft in projecting outward, is confronted by us in the light of day. We are more apt to flop ourselves down on a couch in front of the ever-friendly and reassuring, ubiquitous TV, the world-wide-web of our collective entertainment strivings, than sit down to ponder the state of our personal affairs. This causes us to carry our anxieties into the the darkness and slumber of night, where they will invariably GROW! Wha'd'ya think?