Wild Things of the World

Become fluid, swim
free of those eyes that would capture you;
the tidal wave has power to measure
this momentary action
of your life beyond the prison bars;
and, now the senses collide incoherently,
else squander truth with error in this complexity;
and, if they ask, do not say, sing
where God or Self fall short,
yet life begins coherently in disequilibrium;
cast doubt upon the wind,
lift up your head and see what there is to see:
channel it through your mind and heart,
break it apart for all to share,
bring it home in an open box
and let that mind that is not belief rise and find the glory seed;
a look and knowledge of our earth,
our birth,
our sweet life’s dawning;
and, when you release this fear to the ocean’s depths, walk
do not run along that shore to find him
for whom your care is tending,
challenge him to further explore and take him by the hand
till you and he begin to turn,
to shape and make a destiny, eclipsed of doubt and ruin,
where time is this moment’s secret movement, rhythm
of a love that begins and ends in this simplicity;
for the world is sick and dying,
in need of a great physician, and you have seen the dark machines
those darker souls grind round this globe, and now
you can sink those hands into this diseased soil and heal its wounds
by light and song, jubilation
of such fruit as you have known;
let time, the healer
know the wisdom of this thought,
this wild concept:
love among the wild things of this world come home in a thought of light,
………………………………………………………………………………else darkness.

 – Steven Craig Hickman ©2014 Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author is strictly prohibited.



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