A walk in the wild wood timber
When the leaves have all blown down
The wintery wind whips omens
Of the King who’s lost his crown
No longer sanctified or honored
Or otherwise enshrined
The gloom embraces obscurity
Elemental slumber consigned
Deep beneath the gloaming soil
The spark of life remains
Guided by the ancient ways
A labor of growing pains
For when the woods again awaken
And the leaves return to green
The King will once again be born
His life, again, be seen
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Mare Martell 
Wow, Mare, this is so resonant in ways difficult to explain. I feel it speaks to deep human (or at least Celtic 😉 ) ancestral stories, rich with metaphor, replete with universal meanings, the story of the seasons and of us. Absolutely love it! ❤️
Winter Solstice is coming which is what inspired this. Thank you for your kindness.