Deer horns
Earths crowns
twist the morning mist
as flax spun
turning time
spinning natures breath
hot in and out
his hooves rest ready
As the Stags eyes
tie mine
Back and Forth
under the shadow
of an oak
I will horns from my crown
wish to Lock them
Rutt them
Feel the Power
of an animal spirit
Wish to share more
than this look
under the embrace
of an old english
Oak
Yet for all my shamanic dreams
of wild and wilderness
The Stag and I share
not freedom but confinement
Him bound to this stately park
and its walled reaches
and me to a growing
understanding of my own limits
in this deathly stuctured State
Whereby I as him
are Kept and Watched
Tracked
and Tagged
Farmed though not for my
meat, but my labour
Where once the image of the
Stag was one of freeedom
now it speaks to the heart
of loss
In that moment under a
mantel of green
the dark golden acorn
furred Stag
stands as a stark
reminder of what a
waste we've made of
our human nature
And the joys
we have let
slip through our
grasp
Whilst searching
to improve our
urban lot and
to feed banks
and not our hearts
To fill our days
with monotony
of working lives
that feed not our minds
our soul or body
with life
But with the urge
to lose ourselves
in drugs and drink
to forget how
we live to work
and work to spend
to spend
spend
no time on our
hearts
--
Posted By electroweb to electroweb on 10/11/2007 07:44:00 AM
