Producer of life for the world
Mighty hunter, Continuer of the great circle of life.
Carrier of the souls of beasts and the people of this very nation;
Stormy, husky, brawling,
Land of a thousand voices:
They tell me you are beautiful
and I believe them, for I have
seen the lushes green and
browns that grow in your belly.
And they tell me you are plentiful,
and I answer: yes, it is true. I
have seen the rabbit and the
deer nibble on a green or
drink from a trinketing clear
stream.
And they tell me you are peaceful,
and my reply is: On the hunter
and the simple camper, I have
seen the look of a rested
soul.
And having answered so, I turn
once more to those who smile
and sigh upon this my forest,
and give them back their
awful smile and sigh and say
to them:
Come and show me a lonelier
scene with the tall trees
watching your every step.
Swallowed in what was once all
hope. The lone wolf singing
the same sad tale. A lost
soul, yelling to be noticed.
Cold against all that is
familiar.
Paranoid as the common criminal
of getting caught,
independent as a massive
cat, ready to pounce on your
fear.
Watching
Shushing
Panicking
Screaming
Fearing, loving, forcing.
Through the darkness and the
must, with never blinking eyes,
it stares
Under the burden of life's
originality, it stares as an artist
would watch his greatest piece.
Staring even as a worried mother
would beg you not to touch
her sick child.
Staring and defending the simple
originality you trespass upon.
Staring:
Staring the dense, alone, cunning
stare of an artist, simple, all
knowing producer of life for the
world, mighty hunter, continuer
of the great circle of life, carrier
of the souls to beasts and the
people in this very nation.
