Treasure Island

leonard daranjo


A Primeval Silence


Sometimes I feel so very tired
Of all the masks, the facades and the fronts
I have had to project,
I feel unconnected and wayward
Like a comet in eccentric orbit
I feel like taking a long lonely walk
Back into time
To a place
Uninhabited by humans
And to sit cross legged under a tree
And communicate with the birds, the animals and trees
And to remain in absolute stillness
In the cradle of an ancient consciousness
For a great many number of hours
To scrape away the encrustation
That has accumulated over the years
So that I may reach that pristine being
Bottled like a foetus
In formaldehyde -
Alienated, cold, ignored, rejected and neglected
Because it never really had the chance
To inhabit its dwelling place,
Instead
It got buried and, its voice
Was muffled and stifled
In the jarring dissonance
Of sensual desire which,
If unchecked,
Spreads like forest fire -
Its violent tongue
Scorching the very fabric
Of a wayward soul
I have always known but I have never stopped to acknowledge
That my incessant verbal outbursts
Was never to express
But to regain
A primeval silence

Submitted: Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Edited: Saturday, April 02, 2011

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