Big city wheels keep turning
but no more ache his heart
he's in the land
the trees
the life
of passion pulled apart.
His message clear as daylight
his bootstraps tied on tight
and of half man half bear
he fought for what was right.
Some people called him crazy
some turned the other cheek
but passion, love and saddened eyes
made every action speak.
Man of water,
man of wind,
man of nature true.
His shadow calling,
'Blow me down.
My death is just for you.'
Of every speck of dust afloat, each one of him unlike the rest.
Of every man who ever lived, he lived for what he took in death.
Country spirit,
dressed in black,
sunglasses on his head
his shadow tells me,
'Blow me down.
I lived for why i'm dead.'
(Dedicated to the most passionate man I've never met, Tim Treadwell. Sleep well.)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
a poem of praise so well done his spirit soars no end to his perfect flight high and higher until human sight cannot grasp the glory a fine poem