Stag

I see it now, a Highland stag Magnificent! I felt no love for it, it also was free of such bonds. Yet animal to animal we shared the same shadowed soul. It moves away, disappearing behind a ridge, strange, but now that it is gone, I miss it as if I loved it. So it is with those who have appeared and disappeared over the strung-out years. Many went away, then came back as ghosts - not dead, but ghosts, nevertheless. That word ‘love', maybe I am misinterpreting it, I know I have been misled often by its appearance. There is something much better than that ill-defined verbalized face, something worth missing. Again I recall the stag, how only after its disappearance, only then did I love it.