Wild is a feeling

That the fox knows well

As she slips through the grass

Ears held low

Wild is a feeling

That the hawk cries aloud

As it circles high

Above the ground

Wild is the tree

And wild is the flower

And isn’t wild just another word

For a lack of control

Autonomous power

In the face of nature

Our ancestors knew it well

But

We modern day humans exist in our hollow fragile shell

Resisting the idea

we are mere nothings

Even when everything points

To the fact

That everyone

Lives

In this same wild

Environment

And we don’t get out

Except by that thing that is most wild of all

The final delivery of our soul

Into the unknown universe

-*I find it sad that we have forgotten we are animals, flesh and bone, living at the mercy of nature. Modern life has insulated us against the idea but we truly exist on the back of a wild animal that can shake us off in minutes and destroy every material thing of importance we own.

Cyclone

Flood

Fire

Earthquake

Fleas shaken from her back

We consume to the point of madness.

Perhaps past it.

It’s a problem, and we keep making it.