Mortal Dance – Engage the Pack

“What we think of as our sensitivity is only the higher evolution of terror in poor dumb beasts. We suffer for nothing. Our own death wish is our only real tragedy.” – Mario Puzo
itsraininguniverse
As I listen, my music carrying me away, I feel death circling. A thousand shards of ice sharp pain brings me its gifts of gray emotion. Inevitably sunrise comes, in spite of my night loving wishes. A blank stare possesses my eyes, and life leaves. Can I be dead and alive at the same time? Is this what’s wrong? Am I trying to move rigor mortised limbs? If feelings are dead, is the blood running warm and blue any life at all? It’s like nothing matters when you look over that edge. I want to peek, to glimpse at what’s beyond. Is this what predators sense? That I flirt with death and sleep restlessly for want of it? They surround my camp with fire lit eyes. I see them jumping, ducking in and out of the light, playing with me, afraid to rush in too quick. One tugs at me, yanking my leg to see if I move. I gasp, pushing away the comfort of mortality to engage the pack. It’s the fight that brings me back to life. Until then there’s no reason, but when the enemies come, that, that is why I live, only to fight. Men have ruined everything else in my life but this I control. When it’s time, I will bring death to myself, no one else will take that privilege.

Pleasant Company – Nature’s brotherhood

“Our task must be to free ourselves… by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature and it’s beauty.” Albert Einstein

DMW Sager

Start off easy, morning sun, waves in the distance, crashing their applause. Wind tickles the leaves creating an uproar of green and brown laughter. The wind again, running through the boughs, skipping with childish delight from one branch to the next. Spotlights, sun breaking through the tropical canopy, like lights on a dance floor. The trees give up a few tired friends, they fall to the ground, a crackle, snap, and a crunch, their dieing cry. Some stubborn appendages hang on for dear life, rigor mortise has their woody fingers clinging to rebellion against nature’s whips. Through the clearing, a dark blue sea, a stark contrast to the subtle deep green and yellow new growth. Not to be forgotten even miles away from its brother forest, waves cheer back, their voice carried by the mediating wind. Peace my younger brothers, sing with exuberance at the arrival your visitor.