There was a house in the woods
Bordered by a ring of brambles and thickets
Encircling lush ambrosial gardens
Fed from a narrow cascading stream.
It was concealed by enchantment
From the designs of outside eyes,
Untouched and immoveable,
Unfazed by the works of time.
There, knowledge distilled to one question,
That of pleasure between souls,
The unfurling of tangled psyches
Like fine beaded twine softly pulled.
It was home to several dozen
Who stole away from haunted homes,
Caught lost inside the darkest forest
And running from the world.
In place of statuses and structures,
There are faces always warm to you
And hearts always open
Never asking for or taking dues.
Nothing you thought you were
Or what others did to hurt you
Need go unspoken or lamented,
There’s time to attend your wounds,
And ambitions have all died
As did the barriers between minds.
The house that’s in the woods
Holds space for passions to spring alive.