Monica Richards The Hunt
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?
