The Ramblings of an Over-Active Mind

Regiment of Wood

What do I see in this regiment of wood ?

Ethereal presence in a light that's stood

in mists of light, yet grey or bright,

broken, decayed, brittle I could

not say.

Saplings or spear doth the warrior hold ?

Frosted form a giant we are told.

Does he, she, it hang? It's feet not lit,

standing tall beyond branch-ed

gateway.

From me to him, a beacon of light ?

An ancient torch that burns a bit brighter

in the form of a Y that questions

my being. His soul lies here in this wood

of grey.