Implanted by the river of mankind
Free of places called home
Where the whims of Mother Earth stretched infinite
In the wooded shadows of an aging aesthetic
A nostalgic yearning for peace and quiet
Closed beneath them
The tall standing trees
Holding fast their gentle sways of wisdom
As spiders writhed
In the lightless clearing of their existence
Ceremonially paying homage to their roots
Silently prepared their next departure
See we keep coming home in our minds
Night by night
We keep fast to the lost yarns of Bohemia
No matter how far we roam
On the frayed currents
Of deeply clutched desires
Even should we shelter our coming
In a veil of absence
Our spirits are felt
Dancing with the spiders of ourselves
As they do their best to entangle us
In coy silk webs of the past
The resolute familiarity
A journey of shadows
By which to stir the old oaks of wisdom to life
Weeping happiness
And searching in circles for an inspiration
Rustling in the branches
Of the categories of an aged reason
In the movements of the wind
A mind left to hearing
Towards Mother Nature’s throes
The mistress of the thoughtless echoes
Of trees writhing on the forest floor
And not a soul to hear the beauty
Of the silence of the bard
The temptation to sing
Gently swaying like a pendulum
Muchas gracias por la inspiración, Andrea Dispenziere, muse309.squarespace.com, her dance piece "I came to the forest."
Jason Greendyk, www.jasongreendyk.com
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