The wild man’s heart longs for a different place.
Hearing his own songs on the gentle breeze
through the Fall’s whispering trees.
Atop the dry leaves of forgotten dreams,
The wild man roams to lands unseen.
In quieted mind he finds perfection
as others see just insurrection.
Over rocks he treads, eyes on the path;
facing toward some wintry blast.
The wild man presses through hollow and hill.
looking to find adventures still.
Fording waters roiling and white,
by sweat of brow, through dark and light.
Cliffs ascending and dark chasms to face,
the wild man seeks true nature’s place.
The wild man wears no other man’s halter
refusing to bend or ‘ere to falter.
Through calm and storm he changes not course,
the wild man rides a relentless horse.
The common path he has forsaken
in courageous and bold expectation.
With kinsmen unwilling, others forsaking.
the wild man’s journey, his life’s undertaking.
He drives by fallen oak and through the sharp thorns.
Grabbing beasts by both their great horns.
And when ends the wild man’s way,
He worries not what others might say.
For the wild man’s heart longs for a different place.