Honesty is more painful a privilege…

I see a madman in the mirror.

Yet I find his glare reflected in those of staggering fierceness and wild howl.

For within me lies and rouses often a beast.

There is something of the wilderness which I cannot keep fully quiet.

Ever seeking the pulse and throng of vitality that I have found only ever in Nature,

and the Untamed.

Narcy seems an adult wolf to my instinctive cubhood.

He does something which I know and feel is purposeful and real.

Purposeful and real…

As are all non human animals.

Survival then adventure or solace.

Is all they ever seek.

‘Our DNA is of Earth and SKy…’

I know a man who is more of Nature than me.

he talks of shadows.

and finds in me more of him than we ever close to discuss…

we meet close to always bare feet on the sand or neck deep in the ocean.

And his value to me is so absent from anything he expresses or expects,

for he is like the wind and the waves far more than I could ever find myself,

for I am more human than he.

Honesty is more painful a privilege with the majority of my human tribe than for the animals…


A human unable to avoid being of the earth and sky complements a human unable to avoid being human.


The closest beyond my species I can find in myself is weasel,

or cockroach,

which to many would seem like self deprecation.

Though those who know me well would understand that I consider most humans below the cockroaches and weasels,

in my reckoning of all things.


Which makes me not quite a misanthrope or any other man made concoction,

just a man,

at least honest with himself,

who seeks to scurry and survive in the eye of the storm of Existence,

alongside those who have no choice in the matter…

They are forced to focus always on the movement of the moon in the sky,

the rise and fall of the tides,

the wind and the rain…

On all that matters most.

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