Sense Twists from Beneath

Beneath howling winds a single world’s decree,
Where shadows of conformity shroud a fleeting mind,
The self, like black tadpoles caught upstream,
Twist and bow to the torrent’s unkind grind.

Oh, the brittle and broken masks adorn our faces,
Smeared paint, gnarled pigments, wrath a fiery sun
Demand the soul to braid its wild hair
Into ropes that bind and silence melody.

But deep within, an ancient hum stirs,
A pulse of roots crane for unburdened sky
A whispering call, fierce and pure,
To flee the crowded channels where truth dies.

Nature, untamed, beckons the weary heart,
Her vast, unspoken hymn, raw and free.
Away from the clang of the city’s mart,
She cradles the soul in her wild mystery.

Oh, to dance where the forest breathes,
To bask in the moon’s indifferent gaze,
Far from the swirls of human wreaths
That spin their lies through endless days.

Let the winds unmake these worldly chains,
Let the rivers carve new paths through stone.
For the self, untwisted, unbound remains,
A natural force, vast, unknown.

And though the dogmas may snarl and roar,
Like wolves in the dark to keep us tame,
We are the fire that longs to soar,
To reclaim the wildness of our name.