I know who I have been.
I know who we are now.
We are a lion, grown large and raised
by civil, petting hand. Until one day
in play, we find my mouth and tooth
encircling civil flesh. My petted nature
falls away. We taste the feel of noisy,
civil flesh, and some dark nature
peels away the petted overlay.
We lose myself.
Lions have their pride.
Dark natures there reside.
© 1995, John F Deethardt II
Young spirits crack and fail,
and trail dark natured tribes.
Until one day, in carnivoring,
the self is pricked by horn of falling feast.
They flee and leave no we.
And forms of I recur and leave
the Me to face a civil race.
Lost times that were and are to be
will haunt My healing cage.
I turns them in for time.
The we was never free
in gang captivity.
©1995, John F Deethardt II
(Last updated on November 22, 2004 )