This man, unknown, still walks alone
among the villainous -
among the thorns and wild horns,
inside our wilderness.
Day after day in dark dismay
the years tread slowly by.
Night after night, who knows his plight -
who knows the truth of 'why'?
So far above, the clouds lack love
for such a lowly man.
They give advice and are not nice
as they are better than...
The waters called and are appalled
at what this man had done.
And from the deep, they make a leap -
accused this lowly one.
But trees are friends and off they fend
the blizzards that blow bold -
and warmth from rock will always mock
the wind and bitter cold.
Yet sharp the fangs of hunger pangs,
for food is scarce at best.
Though so deprived, can he survive
this all-important test?
He won't complain in all his pain
and so, is not ashamed -
for trees all stand so quiet and
they too, remain unnamed.
From scorching heat, they are not beat.
They brave the elements.
They do not cry. They do not die
despite impediments.
If in review, you only knew
what all that he withstood -
while making peace with trout and geese,
then lived the best he could.
I understand this unknown man -
as you might guess the clues.
Each step by step with him I kept -
Greetings from the UK. I enjoyed reading your poem.
ReplyDeleteThank you. Love love, Andrew. Bye.