His eyes stared into the darkness, searching
Loneliness was now complete and unforgiving
There was no one there – nor ever would be again
This choice he had taken for his sanity
He knew he was a man of two characters
One of them was a vicious and hard man.
In his saner moments he realised he was losing
But then, all brutal men are lost in a way.
He had been lost for such a long, long time.
Things, anything, just seemed to spark him off
He’d feel himself losing an inner battle
And then he was off again, ranting madly.
The red mist was before him before he knew it
Then he was out of control and so wild
And after — he was always so ashamed.
Thus he lived here in this cabin in the woods
In the wilds, alone, but with many friends
For the wild beasts never questioned his ways.
The wild ones kept him company during the day
And at night he would write or play his harp
Finally he believed he had found peace.
Here among the trees there was no one to provoke
Just a world of creatures going about doing what it took
What it took to stay alive and survive in the harshness.
When an animal got sick or broke a leg
Where they would let him he helped as he could
and the animals gradually got more friendly as time moved on.
He knew he had found his rightful place.
Losing his temper became a thing of a distant past
Visits to the wider world became fewer and fewer
He tended a little patch of crops and lived in peace.
He had found his Utopia and was at last truly satisfied.
©Joe Wilson – In the wilderness…2016