Robert Fleming

The Wild Man


Long ago, through the mists of deep time and the rubble of consciousness,

wind snapped trees

torrents rumbled boulders in the stream

sun warmed grass growing

eagle soared in the wind and storm

and glaciers rutted all the way down the mountain until they came

melting, into the sea.


Long ago, when sons first roamed the earth

felt the pulse of life quickening within them

were initiated into the terror and glory of manhood

by fathers and grandfathers, wizened men

men whose eyes sparkled with tears and the reflection of the stars

whose boundaries melted into the mountain as they died.


Long ago, when men danced the sacred dance around the hearth

ran with the hunt

and wore the horns

there was the wild man.


Robert Fleming

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