Ant

Find a way through the forest.
Centuries of decadence and forgotten booby-traps around you.
Ancient caverns, caves, deadly fungii, carnivorous plants.
You are the hunted with your fruitless, futile will.

Here, the grey vines intertwine, choking each other under the blazing eye of the sun - the unrepentant lover,
and the worms of despondence eat through determination, leaving a gaping hole which opens up to a hollowness; an emptiness within an emptiness.

This forest is also a desert; a counterfeit; a Djinn, with its fickle leaves and blinking lights and evanescent honeycombs.

And you're ensconced in an illusion of security.

But somewhere over the horizon the aural display of hope bedazzles you.
You fill your lungs with freshness, your wings puff out, and you run with the wind.

You should follow the river, but even before that,
Soak your parched heart and then commence with fervour.