The Hunt

Key to his hunt, we chased through forests and across plains.
While useful, I was beloved.

The story is ancient…
I could speak of Love as if it had never before been discovered…
For to fall in love is to walk through a Golden Doorway
To see sights that were once listless and dull
Glow with Life.
To feel a Fire only known by those
New creatures at the next level of evolution…
Yet the story is ancient…
In every culture, there is the tale of a fabulous Creature
That disappears in forests,
And a Young Man hunts with an Aimless arrow, or spear, …
A bird is then wounded –
Or a deer, wounded –
Or A tiger, shot with arrow and wounded –
And as he runs to wear he shot the creature,
Instead, there lies a woman…
And I lay there, my heart ripped open.
The Desperation!
The ability to suddenly forsake all earlier convictions –
To see now the meaninglessness of life’s little demands –
To let go of physical need and cast off material comforts –
To be sick with Love, to shed a third, seventh, or ninth skin –
To awaken the Sleeper –
The creature within that rages each night
Separated from its glowing, raging source of life –
To love as such, to be sick with Love,
Its black clouds gripping the hills of the high deserts
Like a dragon breathing smoke and fire –
Some seek only this
And fall to a living death when it collapses.
Or is this is the intention?