Wildling

I’d rather be a changeling child

Then one without a soul.

For if I can not walk the wilds

As I watch for the rabbits hole

I would find myself a caged bird

Whose wings are bound by bonds

That strain endlessly to be heard

As I look for that magic wand.

The way to be free from here

To nature shall I return.

The deep chill of this fear

Keeps me from the learned

Who only prattle on about their books

The science of their pondering’s

When the wind spills more answers

Than the water has waves wandering.

The forest is my home.

I know.

The softness of its loam

Is where I sow

The breath of life

Within me

And my own

For there are others

Who can never be a city born

Or they will live their lives forlorn.

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