A refugee from modernity
My campfire illuminates the scattered stones of the chapel ruin.
Conjuring contorted shadows who swell like mighty hands
Proclaiming the insanity of the divine.
Tobacco and tea is all I need beneath the tapestry of the stars,
I say " good night" to shuffling cattle and cantankerous insects
And declare darkness as a friend, soothing ,forgiving
A keeper of empty promises,
Seeking clarity I have fled to the mountains
To escape from the acquisition of things ,
I need to expunge , to cleanse
illusions of the mind,
A forlorn song of wayward bird
Carries on the breeze
I sleep in the stillness of a silent night.
Copyright © paul martin | Year Posted 2018