No matter how wild or wicked the wilderness
your virgin eyes will find when your spirit
finally awakens,
know this:
It is your wilderness. It grew whist you slept
and dreamed the dreams of a man
who thought that all he was was mortal flesh
cast here, perhaps, to defend or prove himself
among his likenesses of form.
That wild is you. If unkempt, twas you who rendered it this
and twas you who thought, somewhere within,
as you sensed that for which you had no proof,
as if realizing you had a blind spot in your vision,
in your perception,
that if and when your spirit should also blossom and find feet
to carry it throughout,
it would be the wildest Life of them all,
infinity, minus fear.
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