Undressing of One’s Unnatural Existence
Getting back to the basics and living the freedom
He runs through the wilderness showering in the fresh air,
A smile on his face puts him back where he belongs,
Jogging the trails made from animals past,
Pushing aside all of his recent sacrificial wrongs.
**
He is at peace as he hikes the gullies,
And swims the rivers, floating wherever it wants to go,
Fishing for dinner over the campfire, wallowing in the flames and smoke,
Allowing his thoughts to go with the flow.
**
He sleeps to the birds calling in the darkening night,
And wakes to their coos at the moment of dawn,
He steps out of his campsite as the sun smiles down upon his head,
And studies his surroundings to which he is mystically drawn.
**
Alone, his personal preference,
He stands in full natural glory, proud and defiant,
Lost in the tranquillity of a day in silence,
Loving the possibility to be totally self-reliant.
**
He whistles his pleasure to the animal kind,
And listens to the tunes and chorus that abounds,
A conversation of universal understanding by one and all,
Music in the natural ambience of sound.
**
He picks his brain removing the stress and expectations,
Allowing the rain to wash away the dirt from both his thoughts and his flesh,
Cleansing naturally in amongst the beauty of trees and ferns,
Sinking into all that surrounds him in an endeavour to refresh.
**
He sinks his teeth into the juicy solitude of his world,
Stretching his muscles in a hike of his surrounds,
Lengthening his smile to a degree he’d forgotten,
Amid the serenity of the picture perfect grounds.
**
He spews forth and releases the unnatural existence of his every day life,
Preferring to get back to the basics, as life should be,
Shrugging off the pollutants of the busyness we live,
And lounging in the vicinity of just being free.
Please click the link below my name to read more of my work. I would also like to thank you for taking the time to read this today and for all your support.
If you enjoy this piece, you may enjoy this one too.
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Originally published on Medium
About the Creator
Colleen Millsteed
My first love is poetry — it’s like a desperate need to write, to free up space in my mind, to escape the constant noise in my head. Most of the time the poems write themselves — I’m just the conduit holding the metaphorical pen.
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More stories from Colleen Millsteed and writers in Poets and other communities.
Red Shelves
Death is a black hole. Think about it. A black hole is the corpse of a star, something once warm and bright, now come to the end of its life cycle. But some will argue that the cycle of life does not end with death. That death is merely another path we must walk once our bodies expire and our souls ascend. In that moment, when the fuel in the star’s chemical tank hits empty and the shiny matte coat explodes into supernova, the mass left behind – the corpse – becomes a black hole. We understand that, around such a vast cadaver, dimensions work a little differently in death to the way we’re used to in life. For example, light cannot escape the pull of a black hole when it hits the point of no return. That’s where it gets its colour. Space itself is contorted by a black hole. That’s where it gets its funny shape. Even time. Time slows right down the closer you get to it. The closer you get to a black hole. The closer you get to death.
By Matthew Curtis7 days ago in Humans
Comments (3)
I like the metaphor of removing unnatural clothing!
Sounds idyllic.
Ah, this was so blissful! Solitude is extremely liberating! Loved your poem so much!