At The Campfire.

Suffer your illusions, if ye do not want a brother who has been  afore ye, or camp about my fire, and sup with me and listen to my wisdom's...that I suffered greatly, learning for thee. I have lain among the stars amid the trees of love itself's creation and have much to share of mysteries, are well beyond women and of wars. There are matters urgently demanding our attention, yet you'd rather wallow drunkenly in mournful 'mees' poor me sad me, for fucking lusts you label loves that got away or broke you down. Come. Share with me a draft of dark, a crackling fire light of stark realization, and try to stay awake this time...until the dawn.


Written by Bruce James Clyde 2016, at Deming, New Mexico

Art: Albert Bierstadt, Oregon Trail Campfire