Vanity sent me into some dark forest
while feeling quite all alone;
uniform perhaps were the leaves
drooping with dew as preparing
for the beginning of a next new day.
But it was still then a time unseen—
an eternity left it seemed.
A red fox scurried nearby,
welcomingly diverting my indecent
need to be newly entertained.
His gentle steps were fierce in pursuit
to maintain a substance he may not
reflect on but certainly holds dear.
Unlike in many ways I felt prodding
through the dew and uniform leaves
as they collected water
to feed their uniform trees.
I then stumbled on a rusted out pipe,
and couldn’t see that it ever had
a meaningful purpose here in
this dark and bogged wood.
And in a pathetic attempt of fallacy,
I asked myself whether I was
the pipe, the fox, or the leaves,
and the answer wasn’t clear.