The place my soul burns the brightest is located up North.

Land covered with fresh green earth glazed with drops of dew. 

Miles of trees rooted in strategic lines in front of me.

The leaves catch a breeze giving off the effect of waving in my direction.

I always wave back.

No worry lies in the depths of these woods, no evil can penetrate this brain. 

I wander freely along trails and construct new paths. The scent a wood stove fading behind me.

I roam until the sky falls black.

Carefully crafted are the constellations above, I can't help but admire the one who put them there. 

I've made this world here my own and I find leaving brings greater pain than a blade forced into flesh. 

Everytime I visit, turning back gets harder to do my longing begins to grow.

This sorrow is temporary, someday I will return with my heart in my hand and these feet won't have to walk away.

 Living out here in the open where I've never felt so small, where the stream whispers it's secrets, that's where I've found my home.