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Wild Form
In almost a gallop
he moves across earthly tones
The saturation of wild scents draws him
He stops, he traces, he hunts—
curiosity takes him by the leash
The pads of his feet, worn and calloused from longer treks,
kiss the soft grass;
they follow his eyes
In him his spirit never ages,
for when his bones grow weak and cannot carry him,
his mind races like the flow of a mighty river
This creature obeys the call of his Mother
He fills his experience with her forms:
a constant attempt to know her entirely
He stops, he traces, he hunts—
curiosity takes him by the leash
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I found inspiration for this in the wild forms of life that surround us: the animals that trod, the trees that tower, the air that travels.