THE FOX

 

I am the Fox
the Fox that is too quick
too sly for her own good
too much a master of elusive skill
running too fast to feel it
thru the forest of masks
that cry from the past
that pain ringed around by a grey sleep
that I have yet to outrun

I can outrun anything
except myself
but I have almost outfoxed me yet
I have run so fast thru this maze of mine
as to see my own tail before me

I have paws like the dancing shoes
that have never stopped
I run because I have forgotten
how to walk or even why I must hide
thru the forest of masks
the endless chase
from a phantom hunter
that wears my face as a trophy

The Wish of a Fox
like a storm of butterfly wings
may someday topple a mountain
of a child's exile and loss
from herself

I would wish
for love and lightness of being
for unity and strength of spirit
for the acceptance of pain
and the acceptance of pleasure

I wish for comfort from true friends
on that final path at the end of my day
for I see the loneliness at the end
and remember the loneliness at the beginning
of this path thru the forest
and I must outrun it as only a too sly Fox can

I must run
unless I can be caught
and shown the peace of stillness....
This too sly Fox that wishes to catch her wishes
they run even faster than she does...

 

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