>>>>>>>>>>>>index<<<<<<<<<<<<

 

Meeting Herne

 

Spirit of the wildwoods,

Of hunter and of hunted.

He stands before me,

His antlered brow held high.

He has come, as he often will,

Clothed in leaves and shadow.

Muscles seen as highlights,

Ripples in the darkness.

He smells of musk and woodland,

His fragrance enough to make my head dance.

And my pulse race.

He is the embodiment of masculinity,

Sexual urge personified.

Ably equipped, He stirs feelings I do not expect;

Of lust and joy, but jealousy too,

But to compare myself to a god?

No I'm not that vain, still....

His eyes sparkle, a smile tugs at His lips;

He knows.

I smile back, caught up in the moment.

He gestures towards the trees.

I nod.

We walk together between the trunks.

No words are spoken,

Yet thoughts are exchanged.

His presence stirs the forest,

Waking trees from their slow dreams,

And reflecting in the eyes of the creatures,

That pause in their scurrying to observe our passing.

To observe His passing.

To them He is their bright intelligence,

But also their doom;

The sum of life and death.

He is a paradox, yet...

He seems so simple.

A puzzle that comes ready assembled,

But seen only in part.

He is not darkness nor is He light,

Rather he is both at once and neither.

My mind cannot grasp all that He is,

It settles for what it can.

Time as always bends around Him

We walk for hours but elsewhere,

Scant moments have passed.

A bubble in time,

A moment of peace and security.

Too soon it passes,

In a blink of an eye He is gone,

The world once more encroaches on my senses.

Time speeds up and I am alone,

Yet still I feel Him with me,

And in my heart I know He is always near

 

© Kev the Cosmic Fool 8/ 2004

>>>>>>>>>>>>index<<<<<<<<<<<<