~ if only the moon was
a forest, the moonwalkers
could get the sharp - edged
stones pricked in their
sensitive feets, but with the
swishing sensation of the
crumpled yellowish leaves,
the feets get the touch of the
quietened subtlety.
the humming and murmuring of
birds have the force to
wake up the burried sentences
being intricated with the silky
strands filled up with
sugary nectar sucked up
by the butterflies residing
inside the abdomen
which on consuming
evokes the feelings of slightly
crunchy floral undertones
blended with woody notes.
the tranquilized yet noisy
atmosphere of the forest spoke
the minimal words worth a
thousand pages of a corrupted
novel. the voices were suppressed,
willing to break the
lock of the doors which
kept them strangled within
the boundaries.
not even the rapturous
sunlight could reach the earth
of the dense forest. they were
horrified of being silent
and oppressed till an eternity,
the words in the humidity
of the air vanished and never
reappeared as the missing
child of a woeful mother
who ran away into the woods.
as the mother was able to cope
with the loss of her child as
soon as the memories faded
away, it became less-grievous.
the forest too bloomed with the
new words of aspiration.
the huntsman being totally
unaware of the long-drawn
tales of the forest,
get drowned into the ocean
of turmoil faced by his
indecisiveness. he asked the
branches of the forest if
they had no one to confide their
agony to. little did he know
the words muttered by them
could only be understood
by someone who can give them
the ailment like the soil and
water did to them. the man
could only provide them with
the hope of affection that
someday the canopies of this
forest would flourish with
warmth and ardour. the night
sky will be intrigued by its
beauty and the endearment
it holds for the carnivores at
every path of the forest.
the beasty creatures who are
fond of the harmonious
home it creates for them.
the place where every tigress
comes back to her cave
after casting around its prey,
leaving the footprints of the
big paws at every mile. the forest uncloakes its bare chest
before the wild who knows
every secret incarcerated
on the trunk of the tree
written with natural gum.
the koalas tell the stories
of mightiness of the forest
to leaves of the eucalyptus tree.
the eagle when grasping the shoot of a tree lends its soul to the
forest before building its nest.
that's what make the forest the resemblance of a glowing full moon 🌙🎑