Do each of us have a monster inside
a beast we strive to hide from the
world, those close we love, and from our self?
At the end of each day
what are we truly running from?
What shadows lurk in the forest
and what shadows do we carry?
Across the fields with scattered snow
mountains rise from the earth
in spires of solid granite,
nearly featureless – how will
this barrier be overcome?
Standing at the base of the mountains
what hope I brought here
disperses on the cold wind
scouring the surface of the empty fields,
those fields I left behind years ago
when the beast chased me away.
I keep it within reach
just beneath the surface.
It is always awake with eyes
open watching me and ready
to arise at the simplest command
always there beneath the surface.
Time has not soften the beast.
Time has not taken away the power.
Over and through the years
I have learned to control
when the beast arises
the appropriate moments to step aside.
a deep fog,
a wakeful sleep,
a field lit by ten-thousand lanterns
reflects the chaotic sky passing
through different sets of reality,
a physical manifestation of the
struggle, of the storm taking hold.
this clear moment,
a disconnected view of what is true
I let go of attachment and emotion
and take hold of my thoughts and actions.
The threads fade into the background
as the scene silences and I am left
with basic and primal instincts,
disconnected from the imagined
physical world, pushing aside
forced projections and loose
words from false gods and prophets –
my inner beast runs into the fields.