Sing me a song of the wild untrodden,
Draw me a picture of the quiet night,
Punctured only by thoughts.
Thoughts of the ancient,
Of the old man in his cave, in his den, in his tree, beside the fire
Slow. Slowing. Burning, crackling, hissing. Embers
And all the while,
The stray thoughts,
The unbidden wisdom of happenstance
Melancholy murmurings
A stirring inside,
Rip me from this reverie, take me to the wild places
Plant me there
Beside the rocks and grass and mud underfoot,
And rushing water cold.
