Anima
Once you've discovered the freedom solitude engenders,
There's a better than 200 percent chance
You'll never go back to the misdirected distractions
That seduce the modernistic spirit
Into the shackles of materialism, the fetters of technology.
Indeed, once you've accepted seclusion's only requisite —
That you let time slow your pulse rate down
To that of cattails, Wisconsin drizzle, Quetico lakes,
Cloud-high white pines, three-foot Minnesota snowdrifts —
Your existence will become its own reason for existing.
"How can you seem so self-assured?" you must be asking,
I, who, until my sixty-fifth birthday,
Languished in the ruts of the citified horse latitudes,
Yearning for the slightest modicum of serenity, tranquillity,
I, who couldn't look at a spider or housefly without killing it.
Well, I'll tell you, if you're willing to listen to an acolyte
Who believes in the salvation that nature alone provides:
It's all a matter of denying wealth, celebrity, "necessities,"
Embracing the politics of dandelions, the religion of fish,
The commerce of loons, the science of sky . . . anima.
09/27/11
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