Confusion Often Mistakes Don't Trait

Kelp collects Moss grows,

Oaks die,

Who am I??

The Base is Elemental,

the fire a flame,

looking to Eternity,

I was shown the Infinities comb.

A strange reward for open door,

to feathered approach of links in spoke.

Gifts seem in exist,

the Mind of knows this as a kiss,

no wonder pushed it's just the Mist,

it flows like a rambling rose.

No thorns to prick,

no apple in nipped,

no poison in felt,

release just belts.

Heed the warnings there sort of scornings,

in my life I've respected it's right,

beware of the bee hives knife.

Cutting babble to englished gavel,

the Sword of a double edging crones.

Certain I am that scared I do,

the writes are tightly knit for true.

Never dabble in Witchcraft too,

the pensive words in used I spook,

the shadow an echoed dug,

the Circle is the speak.

To call the Moon in naked spoon,

the dance is done with fem's for fun,

it scares me till I speak and fill,

the sentence with these weirds in brisk.

No excitement fills my vassals,

for this I must so speak,

the traveled road that sends to know,

involves no tricks to treat,

a blessing for this feat.

Should I spend to much lend,

on subjects that just creep,

I'll shake or shook with pen in book,

to express the speak.

Wisdom prevails as I whale,

digging out from up this vale,

it's secrets are to no avail,

I worry for the Tends.

I am not Them.