Deep in the Woods
Amongst the trees
And thick bushes
A clearing awaits
Covered with vines
Protected from the world
Lie the dead children
Long since came
The vines and roots
Encase their little bodies
Holding them secure
In their deadly slumber
Forever disturbed cries
Sound through the tree-ring
 

I stand
I wait
Quietly guarding
No one passes
But through me
I welcomed the children
Settled them down
Upon the soft grass
Bedded forever
But no other
Than the children
Will enter the Glade
It is not a place
For the living to walk
 

I am the Guardian
The children are now mine
Do not question
Do not judge
You do not know the ways
Of this world or the Glade
This is a place of unnatural death
This is the sanctuary
It may not look it
You will never understand
You see evilness where there is none
In the world of suffering
Peace is not the absence of pain
It is pain permitted.
 
 

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