I had some good words back then
full of angst
testosterone powered passion
directionless lyricism

I was in a wilderness
where only brambles and weeds grew
flowers afraid to show their colour
for fear of being trampled

but now I approach my Eden
through the open gate
sunshine beckons me
illuminating light and shade
words begin to fail me
beauty has muted my pen
anger needs to sit and rest

Ever so welcome beads of rain dance against my face as I run. Faster and faster, until I no longer hear your footsteps.
I look back for you through the trees.
My eyes darting frantically amongst the green wonderland of leaves.
I stop and remove the drenched hair slapped against my check.
Trying to calm my breath, I listen.
All I hear are heavy rain drops bombarding the earth.
Then, "C           
                R            S
                    ­A           N
                       C           A
                          K           P"
The thunder yells and we both scream.
Out you fly... eyes wide with excitement.
Together we rip through the trees as the wind and warm run carries us.
I feel your eyes upon me.
I already know what you're thinking.
I extend my arm as you grab my hands.
We share a stare,
I see a reflection of the adrenaline rush.
Giggling innocently we run as fast as our feet can carry us.
Our arms extended,
Our shirts rustling in the wind,
We are one with mother nature.
We are her daughters,
She binds us.
You will always be my sister.

He wore a wolfs skin,
a thick hide of coarse fur.
He hid in the forest and only came out at night,
Stalking amongst his prey.
I saw him at the woods line,
Eyes glimmering like the blue green sky in the midst of a new moon.
The air around him clouded,
The cold silent wind rushing in the space between us.
The still of the night softly whispered to us.
My heart thudded,
My lungs were like bricks under the light of the pale moon sky,
My eyes fixated on his.
My wolf,
My spirit,
The churning howl deep in my belly.

A wilderness is untamed,
nature bursts forth in all its glory;
without the guidance and destruction of
man.
It is beautiful,
a place where the soul is free,
although it may be in danger.


A wilderness is here.


Concrete slabs put upright
with windows;
facing more concrete.
Trees are sparse and trained,
grass short and restrained;
people reign.
An empty kingdom
of blank angry emotion,
called civilisation;
where the soul is definitely in danger.


It is our wilderness.

It is for no ill will, no caprice on the part of fire, but for love. Man wakens fire from sleep, feeds her, cares for her, and keeps her alive. And so she smiles on him with friendly light, warms him, whispers to him mysterious songs, and drives away all that would sting, bite, harass, or harm. For as man loves fire, so fire loves man and delights in his company, all the more in wild and lonely places.

You neatly told me
That your muse is more a student
Of mountain writing
Than of poems; the way they go in
And out, all natural and deserted.

How otherwise can one know
The heart of the matter than
To isolate the heart, at least
For a moment or several, with
What remains of earth and air?

Leave it alone without water.
Send it into the woods with nothing but
A flimsy packet of beef jerky,
No swimwear, and hope
That the sky doesn't pour itself in riot.

So be ready for anything with
The grace to let the self be
Washed, dunked in a lake
Of coffee to emerge what it could
Have been from the beginning.