Stigmata

The cornel trees and sweet chestnuts,

watch solemnly over the auspicious path,

where gnarled roots amid treacherous ruts

bespeak the forest's ancient wrath!

Footsteps profane the hallowed hush,

the baneful recklessness of human zest,

aloof, the wistful moon in pale blush,

betrays pilgrims in cruel jest.

A labyrinthine quest is ours,

dreamers drifting along moonlit crossroads

we fireflies, like lovers of the stars,

susurrate hecatean odes.

He walks in fear, shuddering, unseen eyes

herald the spirits in their arcane guise.

She sees him stumble on the track

and longingly caresses his pale cheek,

with faerie warmth, hoping that he'll fall back

to be enslaved in night's mystique.

Spellbound, battling the drowning tide,

he flees on waving ground, the forests deep,

primeval fears, like howling wolves, subside

but in the distance, faeries weep ...