I walked miles in the darkness black like ravens, my body weak and unforgiving. Haunted by the whispers that plagued my inner being. It was the eyes that were watching me that kept me going. Piercing me like an indestructible weapon, highlighted in red. Burdened like fire pouring from inside a mountain. My heart pounded like a tribe dancing, singing to the gods of an old forgotten religion. It was the the breath of the night that stopped me like a wall that I could not penetrate. It was all to heavy, it was all to profound. I realized I was carrying the conflict of hesitation. So I propped myself against the pillars of the forest. Scrapping my fair skin, I slowly slid down. It was the leaves that I remember, they were curled beneath my cold, swollen feet they were wet, no sunlight, had penetrated them; just the shimmer of the moon that illuminated them. The stream off in the distance let me relax from the eyes, the ravens, from the tribe; it was the sea of crickets that gave way to a motionless dreamer. Like a meadow of tiny hands, not the lilies I remember. I had sewn through the stars, connecting the night to a dream, keeping it in my grasp. But my layered story dissipates, like broken bones burned to dust; Blown by the wind where the sun now takes hold my golden thread. The leaves dance; now crisp from the daylight. The air is not heavy but fresh. And my broken body lets go of the conflict that I held on to for so many miles.