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