Carving Out Secrets

There is a grove of trees, a glade,
Guarded by a lynx,
Wherein an old scarred tree grows.
Many things have been carved into its bark.
Secrets kept and hidden,
For none can trespass while the lynx rests by the entrance.
If you stood with your feet by the roots,
Of this old tree,
A story would unfold before your eyes,
And you too would see.
I have traced my fingers across every word,
Etched them with stubborn nails and painted them red.
This tree of mine,
Knows me well,
If you wanted to know…
You could ask the lynx ~
But she would never tell.

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About Fredrik Kayser

Everything is connected.
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