I climbed up a forest, who burned red in his crowns.
The earth was white, Myriads of black and red flowers floated in it.
From big plates, who were swaying, rolled a swarm of bright orange needles
down. I smelled honey resin and sponges scented with mystery.
The red of the crowns sank deeper, long pink ships circled the red and black ones
flowers around, which fade imperceptibly. Now I saw the trunks intertwined
complicated chips, Rinden in 3D, layered; an immortal face, the
gradually evaporated. Veils fell, those gray mists from the ground
overgrown. The forest first turned blue, then anthracite. An owl called.
It was so dark, I no longer saw my stumbling foot. I felt
a soft pad beneath me, so I lay down in the moss, to sleep.
I dreamed of an endless forest, from which I never found my way out,
a forest, in which I lay safe, without exit. A raindrop fell and
second. The wet cords rattled from the branches like clinking iron
and crushed my body. I got up, ran and tore the curtains
down. repented.
(14.8.22)