The Holdra

Footsteps in the moss

I trod upon logs fallen in 

rivers of mud and 

slash through 

gossamer spun webs

of giant spiders 

slung across fanning 

foliage walls 

like crossing stops

long abandoned

and left to rot

I keep up my trek

till I reach a glowing 

font of primal energy

somehow exiting my being

instead of 

entering my thoughts

the constant flow 

of growing vitality

bursts every cell

instantly evaporating

bark and root

leaf and loam

replace skin blood 

hair and bone 

equal mass

redistribute

eventually 

I hear the call

folks on the trail

they find the hall

a clearing filled

with arcane air

a single tree

they cannot bear

the sensations frighten 

those unaware

reflexively they lash out

slashing blindly

they meet me

seeing what they 

came hunting

unable now 

to take any more

I may be anchored 

here in my glade

but even 

the stabs of 

well oiled a blade

shall not prevail

for I am hollow

but not dead

I am a holdra

protector of life

the saplings

the flora

and all who 

seek refuge and 

lie weeping 

under my shade

K.B. Silver