Unbound III

I wish to tell you the story of the unbound

Cast around for

The comfort to

Listen

As I tell you their world

And let me draw for you their picture

The unbound

Are like you and I

And maybe we were there too

For a few moments

A time

Or yet again many times

They are unheld

By the virtue

Of the world’s mores

Abandoned from hopes and fears

The unbound sing a song

That draws the words

From the darkness before dawn

between wakefulness and sleep

we know those words

for they have been within our grasp

just beyond our hearing

many a morn

try as we may, we forget to remember

for they are the words of the unbound

friends, I whisper these words to you

for they are not for all ears

or palates

yes.. some will cringe

or fall away

when they comprehend

but the song is

no dirge

for the unbound are not sad

they are in that place where joy and fear

are free from our spoken lies

the sum of their song is filled with

the pregnant silence of

truth

the morning come we retreat

to a safer

more tread upon path

our dreams

and the sweat of the night

slowly recede

alas…

but the unbound

reside

with those dreams

a reality close to their skin

eyes have open

life has become

the dream

and the half reality

but they are not

wasteful dreamers

please never think that

for they are maybe less

dreamers then are the

striving masses

their dreamscape

is the wide circles of the winging hawks

over the rolling plains

their trees are forests

of our youth

that rise higher than the hemlocks

steady under the hand

their water is sweet

as the mountain

springs of the beautiful isle

their flowers

are the hands of the ascetic

rising from the jungle

waters, soft and cloying

with his scent

we have walked, winged, touched and smelled

these

but their memories are shadowed and dull

the unbound

have for an instant, a day

or longer

laid in this clearing

for they care naught

what will be

or was

or they do.. but not now

not today

their vision

focuses

on their love

and pleasure

and hope

ecstasy of the senses

yes they have abandoned

themselves

to the powers that

flow just underneath

our hooded eyes

or behind

our smiles

and cries

the time

that they

are unbound

is what the

poets and painters

of yore have tried to

capture

I only whisper these

Untold

Tales

For I have stumbled upon

The words

That describe

Them ;

The unbound

And I have seen

They lay themselves before me

For an instant or more

Yes I have seen the unbound

And they have left an after image

That is there

Beyond my vision…

And I pray

And walk the land

Seeking

To be too

Unbound