Treasure Island

James Murdock

(06/13/1986 / Dahlonega, GA)

A Talk With The Wild


How does wildness move us all? 

I thought and walked through the dawn of fall

And fall, as it goes, what a fine metaphor

For those who have fallen toward a cold corridor



For him, who was wild, and fixed on the source

Who drank from its fountain and laid in its warmth

Where briskness of eve whirled round his buckskin

And settled by flame on the day's bitter end



He rose in the morn, stared quietly out

Twas the mist of the mount he marveled about

And what he surveyed he knew he became

The fog of the dawn and he were the same



Who reticent and swiftly bent

Raised his aim by crafted flint

Then knelt to see the giver's grant

And sang a while a swaying chant



But down the ladder, man did crawl

To get a feel, to know it all

Celestial reliance lost

Unto this trance, he bares the cost



And I, the muddled man, did walk

Amid the credence of this thought

A confidant of neutral pacts

Who longed to fill his olden tracks



Did fluster then muster the courage to ask

The panting ground, the master's mask

Oh Ancients, doest thou world exhale

To fill the chest of a modern shell? 



My feeble child, the wild did say

Send thou longing mind away

For as you walk and take my air

I take the place of your despair

Submitted: Wednesday, May 01, 2013
Edited: Thursday, May 02, 2013

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