Being alive

By tdf, May 24, 2022

I seem to have always existed in this odd state of finding no comfort feeling anything less than immense, intense, alive, thriving, wild, free…for good or ill. Yet curiously, or perfectly, when in Nature, when my senses are prised wide open by diving into the cold tide symphony ever rising and falling, heaving and longing to obey and devote all mega energy towards, the lunar goddess smiling full beam, then fading to calm silent darkness, from the firmament above…yet exerting her influence always, on EVERYTHING.

All this time diving into the waves,

calm marvel becomes me,

animal wild in mega devotion to the magic of existence with my sensual nature so amazed at simply being here,

being alive.

I am innocent in those fleeting moments I never want to end,

then within minutes of ever heavier steps to get back to where the land meets the ocean,

I become once more cynical, brutish, vile…

For I lack the steady embrace here on the land,

of those urban wolves from back home,

my tribe,

who eternally feel me as the fox.

Here is different.

And yet,

after so many moons a butterfly soul lands on my knee,

Instantly I am shocked,

want only those gorgeous wings to flutter and somehow angelic little eyes,

not looking at me, for merely to witness them near is enough,

but to be part of my scene,

to stay there…

so I remain still

then try make the butterfly smile.

for I realise she inspires in me

a softness…

I thought long burned to ashes,

and too shy, nervous have I become,

whilst astounded,

that when she removes her glasses,

she is truly blind to the Earth she becomes to my Moon.

Nothing else could all my senses find more beautiful.

Too Eden for me to aim to journey deeper towards.

Any semblance of the sublime,

any creature whose mere honesty and revaling of angel heart can cause me to smile with all that is left which matters so much.

No politics.

No preferred pronouns.

No socially herded judgements.

And to see her cry…

I dont think, I just feel.

Instincts want to wrap around her, politely,

create a protective cocoon,

any attack to make an angel cry absorbed and deflected,

by my storm of an essence…

Her smile and laugh is as deeply appreciated as the warm rain on a hot day,

when on the sand and wading in to the depths,

diving deep below the surface, and looking up as I glide and soar and smile and speak to the fish and other ocean beasts,

to see the raindrops gilded light falling down to meet me and the ocean from above…

I could bang on more silly talk…

essentially…I am joyful to have this essence in human form,

blinded to butterfly beauty,

in my life.

And become instant and always knight errant.

A welcome purpose.

Yet enough of such softness become me>>>>

or maybe not,

for when all that matters has been given any hint that some of the same tribe may well remain,

it launches onslaught of the control panels and decides the next tune.

I like to let my heart speak.

though fear scaring away the butterfly,

so move back to spirit and some mangled grand Nephew of the forest God Pan….

Indeed, I am more comfortable in the filth,

leave the angel appreciation to the Lancelot knight errant,

seek fellow fiends in the darkness,

those with worthy fangs and a zeal I find otherwise only in the thunder and full moon rageful tides.

Protect the angels,

the loveliest of things with pretty wings,

lock vulnerable, fierce horns with the fellow wildlings,

write,

seek nature,

nakedness deep in the ocean.,

glare at the stars,

dance in the thunder and embrace the savage power of the lightning,

wherever it strikes…

Echoes of my essence of wild nurture.

Where everything always meant something.

Nevermind the horror and brutality of what I was,

of when i was,

I have to keep distance,

from those who are adorable lovely pure,

honest as the forest…

shown their fangs and my own were lame blunted soft in response.

I have not moved beyond them.

further below,

some wannabe long dead knight,

who at best,

can try to play the lone wombat.

hideous aware of the repeated conclusion>>>

as the one LINE I should have long written,

is…

DONT SHOW ME YOUR HEART,

then I cant hurt it….

I relate to these two…have often felt strange resonance, as in parts of the ratty chap I like to think I am, yet rugged more akin to his too close to call merely a brother…

His sister is the Light,

His brother is like a Rock,

His father is like the Tide, with life pouring out his skin.

His Lady?

She is like the stars…without her brilliance, he is blind…