am that one – forever wandering, forever longing for the quench
shrinking, expanding, recoiling, contracting – forever inadequate
there is a place befitting of this everlasting fascination
a river full enough to exhaust compulsion – the urge that seeps between the marrow and begs for breath; the disquieting yearning screeching against stomach walls crawling upward through a crest.
I am that one, unnameable. A soul without a home, the bastard child of Zeus dodging Hera’ s scorn. Braved the fiery winters to arrive unscathed by the whitest storm. I am that one, untamed. Artemis deep inside the forest of her longings, befriending trees and fawns. Bow and arrow – sight and sound – acutely sharpened huntress scouring the universe for a rouse.
My dreams are made of iridescent lace entangled in the brain. I’ve sewn this path in my silent stride ignoring time’s indifference. Sand on the hands – so fleeting. I answer to none but the call which springs from the center, the disarming of the heart which surrenders. So I surrender, thus I succumb. I am that one – the uncaged bird indifferent of the ground.