We used to run naked
through the wilderness,
chasing,
laughing,
fucking.
Our tribe of many colors,
now we have scattered
to the wind,
and once in a while
I can hear my children
call out
to the lost night.
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C.D. in memory of those hot dark nights of abandon.
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Comments
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Artists are magical helpers. Evoking symbols and motifs that connect us to our deeper selves, they can help us along the heroic journey of our own lives.
Joseph Campbell
Shoot, this poem makes me remember things I did and did not do. Solid.
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"It is the spectator, and not life, that art really mirrors." - Oscar Wilde
I love this.
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"I've strangely become immune to the thought of seeing you."
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