The Bird and Baby

How slow and soft the creek flows,
Down the canopied forest floor.
How undisturbed and tranquil it all seems,
Unchanged by a score of weather.
And how my boots find firm the small footprints,
My feet placed long ago.

Tall and far these trees extend,
Further still my heart has roamed,
To lands and castles high atop,
The mountains lofty view,
Yet though my eyes have seen this world,
This basin stays my home.

Young and trusting I took the path,
With my tattered shoes behind,
For the feel of cool grass and pine,
And the gentle flowing waters,
Beneath my callused heels,
To me, was holy ground.

For I, the prince of these hallowed lands,
Found solace in her shade.
There were no enemy or malice,
Brave enough to emproach upon this kingdom,
Whether by day or by night,
For the King surveyed her borders.

The King lived here.
He walked these lands,
And guarded all within.

Long ago, I left these halls
To voyage the horizon.
Long ago, I ventured vast,
And impassable oceans.
Long ago, this child’s heart,
Found death to be it master.

The further my travels,
The more set the road.
I found the forests thin,
And the waters silent.
The warm summer evenings,
Turned cold with bitter winds.

Now weary and broken I return,
And cross the open borders,
Longing for the heart that died,
To grace me with courage,
And guide my steps to once again,
Find shelter by the river.

And here you stand,
Unmoved by years.
Even as my hair greys,
And my bones ache,
This stone remains,
Watching over the sacred wood.

So, once again, I find my place,
Upon the sturdy crest,
Of my old forest throne,
And hope to hear again,
The still waters,
And the soft steps of the King.

For the King lives here.
He walks these lands,
And guards all within.