All of broken-down humanity, raging like crazy people in the night, desperately searching for connection, or holed-up in private castles hoarding crumbs of affection and sparse memories of being human.
All of broken-down humanity, getting drunk and fucking like it's a miracle cure, or watching hour after hour of mediocre tv shows, killing time with endless scrabble games.
All of broken-down humanity, trying not to feel, trying not to face it, or burning up from the agony and terror and going down in flames.
All of broken-down humanity, this is why you did heroin, this is why you started wars, this is why you hurt and rape and kill.
All of broken-down humanity, lost in the wilderness of society, pretending it's ok, wishing for more... maybe, forgetting how to dream, forgetting how to want, forgetting who we really are.
All of broken-down humanity, searching for answers in weird mystical places and practices - astrology and acupuncture and hundreds of religions, and the only real answer is: there's no room to be you! we got fucked-over and are lonely, we must build a new world.
All of broken-down humanity, - we can only fuck and fuck-over because we've forgotten love, forgotten how to love.
We need a change we need to remember we need to make room for our humanity we need to recover from the ages we need to rest we need real love.
The wolf and the crow visited me one winter night, whispering, "Your true self is waiting, Your true self is waiting," and I snuck out into the cold and dark where I ate wild grubs of the present moment and foraged for bark from the tree of life until my clothes turned brown and grey and green, the colors of the woodsfolk, and I could run one hundred miles without stopping and my wings finally regrew and I disappeared into the sky.
Back in the kingdom of me, the dust has gathered on the floor and birds nest in the high tower, but I have finally returned, so I light a new fire in the hearth, clean up a little, and look out at the land I have missed for so long.