To be gentle. And kind. And considerate. To always have the other's needs in mind. These are the keys that open the solid iron doors of the forest. That with trust and understanding and respect and equal pace you may lead one another on a journey that, although you both know the destination, neither one of you are quite sure of the footing or terrain, making this trek exhilarating and incomparable.
And this forest of tender limbs, supple and malleable and strong, but soft, like the white braided vines that connect each extension and weave their way throughout, guides would-be adventurers along their own unique paths, so great and expansive this grove is. Yet treacherous it can be: those who would seek to harm or tarnish or inflict undue pain and suffering, or as an attempt to carve their way will only be met with rabbit holes of despair and unimaginable solitude, for this place is as deep and dark and dense as those who'd seek obtain it's secrets for their own personal use, instead of allowing well-heeled explorers to offer their own creative maps and recollections.
And we enter together. For in her, and match. A walking partner. A ranger. A fawn of the forest. Not born of it, but drawn to it naturally. One with a curiosity to explore every nook and cranny and vine the forest has to offer. One with the patience to tread easily, and lightly, so as to not loose her footing in this inviting yet unfamiliar place. One that sees a destination glade from afar, and is excited by it, but still has the charm and inner calm to allow me to guide us.
For I am her stag. Her guardian. Proud, strong, and steady as she wanders to and fro. Alert and cautious, intuitively reading her movements and mindful of any sign of anxiety or discomfort. Wise, humble, and reassuring when she looks to me for guidance, which is often, though I find comfort in her inquiries, for she is near me, and by my side, and pressed against me.
And together, we are wild. And not wild as an infant is wild, savage and carnal, untamed and without compassion, nor the way a harsh wind can be for the same reasons, but wild as the root of the world. Unfettered, unconstrained. Pulsing. Breathing. Free. Free to be wild, and be what we are, and explore at our leisure; to devise our path, and plan for the unknown, and impose self-restraint only when necessary, for in our forest there are yet none who would seek to impose their own shackles, their own designs, their own will.
