I am drawn towards fairytales, moonlight, the ocean and primal filth…
I am drawn towards fairytales, moonlight, the ocean and primal filth…
raw rugged feral honest as the forest…
I was chatting to a beloved brother of late. It nourishes the TRIBE so deeply knitted in the brow of my old soul, to simply hear his voice, see his face, and find it all connecting to my voice and nature which fades and acquiesces without that injection of the Life which SHaped Me.
We were talking of how our Natures are different. And I came to ponder after…if we could take away our human outline, and judge each other on behaviour alone, I would find few both loved and despised, as my natural tribe. Yet the root which led to the cogitation of such things, confirms, that the human outline is important…
I perceive most humans wasps or ants,
wannabe killer bees buzzing as they are told and SOciety shows how they can prosper or merely survive,
or…cowards, frauds, lacking only the physical outline of chameleons,
yet puffing out human chests to proudly repeat the script of the Herd…
or…the proper pure and raw, who are forced to hide,
for chance of survival aint pretty when immersed in the sewer pipes of chameleon lemmings.
Enough of this harsh demand to be…more rugged than my nature can presently abound.
yet the clear conclusion is that my nature cannot fit into a butterfly,
this softness needs to be hardened at least to moth,
and whilst my psyche and spirit have grown accustomed to society and the world beyond.
what remains of my beating heart, now lukewarm embers of a fire which was once indomitable inferno,
is too soft, too open, too vulnerable.
Where is my metamorphasis?
For I remain fascinated less than horrified by humanity,
relating with the only unflinching appreciation towards the rain and the tides and the moon and the sun…
never human,
I include my own,
which is too often veiled by many things the animal in me rages and roars towards…
High time I steered to more upbeat reckoning of our…condition>>>
Lif can speak of Existence with playful wisdom.
If I must accept my human outline, I will more eagerly take him as my totem>>>
All my questions dissolve the closer I get to Nature.
As I wade into the waves and remove my human threads,
I lose the voice of the land and the animal within is given free reign,
to become as one in mega marvel of the tides and wind,
emerging from the depths,
I then look upon the clouds and sky and shadow moon as the most beautiful image I could ever see and feel a part of,
and its in constant motion.
beauty replacing beauty,
whether dark or light, day or night…
I am as blissful in a blizzard of my youth in the kentish countryside,
as I now find when leaving the land and machine and words,
starlight pouring down,
waves rhythmic SIren call to my Animal…
Despite this brief or lengthy escape,
I wish I could return to the inertia of my humanity and find more like Lif…
They exist,
and I must grit my blunt fangs and work harder to seek them out,
as I can never become parrot fish or butterfly…
My softness projected as fluttering, delicate wings absent of harshness…to become iron clad,
my bond to zeal and words and raw rugged real,
to be my focus….
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