I'm walking into a forest of darkness.  While the leaves of the silver maples twinkle in the evening sun, I know I shouldn't stay long.  The beauty of the entrance, the comfort of the sorrow leads a path into the blackest part of these woods.  The sadness creeps up from my ankles like moss.  Soon it's deep green is dripping from my arms like branches threatening to suffocate me.  I could get trapped here.  I back out slowly into the meadow where the sun can warm my face.  I walk back to life.  But the moss is still there hanging on to my extremities.  As a reminder of the forest begging me to return.