Return To The Wild

Mankind needs to return to the trees, to be free and fearless of their naked insecurities. They hide in their cities, cloistered and cloned, with every possible light on...yet, they still feel fear. Let them, rather, join the creatures. Have a howl. Feel the fresh imperative in their loins, the unwashed lusts of earthiness again. 

Let them go, back to the first beginnings...where it all came from. May they slip their leash and run...their horney heaven come, to the bush, beyond backwater roads where sounds of nature whisper, or roar or scream or sing, their animal song...not to harm, but for privileged grace to simply live another hour in this paradise. To see and feel once more...to hear with hearing ear of every thing...the seeing eye, within the self, that tells us who we are. 

For God is there, in those, less trodden glens, where mists arise on mornings...from the rutted guts and nostrils of the wild things. So, go...for god's sake go, while you still have a soul, and worry not...your battery is down..your flashlight flickers...and is out. Just Howwwl! Runnn! with your maddened heart...gulp breaths of real clean air, slurp gouts and glops of puddled waters, laying there, just laying there...and nest, among the furred and needled branches...of the way it always were.

And if you die in flight, running through the night...what matter, if you never know? Is it better, this 'not being' that the city safety offers, or to feel yourself alive...My God! Alive! Forever more, somehow...this creature comfort, you could come to realize? And...if we do survive, to witness, once again...the world grow, and give and take, from up there, high...away, within the glens and glades and groves of hidden harmonies...I hope, we never look back.


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

Art: Penny Parker, Wolf howling at the moon, from Pinterest.com