Boys don’t cry. They lament till their drops of saline wash fill the oceans. They don’t need saving. They stumble around tongue tied till they are fully awake. Playful wisemen. From hell to wilderness.

I am perpetually drawn to wilderness. Not just the one that we traditionally associate with untouched nature. Any kind of wilderness. Of human spirit. Of destruction. Of creation. Of solitude. Of chaos. Of noise. Of nothingness. Uncharted and unpredictable. Wilderness.

I dream of touching the sky. My hand reaches up and never stops growing. Past the moon. Brushes against the planets. Runs by the comets. Touches the starts. Thousands. Millions. My eyes long gone yet I can see the magic of the ocean, the magic of life, the magic that is wilderness.

Slowly I stray on the temporarily merciful sea. Millions of organism gazing at me. Cheers and woohoos. As I become undone. Unidentified. Wilderness.

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s