Mira Posted July 29, 2003 Report Posted July 29, 2003 The Hermit cares nothing for the world, and the world cares nothing for him. Suckling on the bosom of nature, He is sustained by the manna. Dwelling in the virgin woodlands, Amongst the feral creatures, He is unchained by societies frivolous burdens and bonds. His is a blithe life. And yet an aching brews inside him. An aching for something more. For that basic connection between two human-beings. For that smile, that touch, that kindly word. An aching that tears at his brain, That corrodes his soul. His course is decreased to a singular choice. To relinquish his freedom, and rejoin the ladder of society at its bottom most rung. Or to stifle the yearning for months, maybe years, until he is driven past the brink, And becomes little more than an creature of the wild himself.
SoaringIcarus Posted August 1, 2003 Report Posted August 1, 2003 Mira, I'm surprised no one beat me to commenting on this entry, because it's rather good. Ah, the eternal struggle between the introvert and their natural desire for at least some social contact. A few suggested corrections: Capitalizing the "A" in And, in line two. Stanza 3, last line: By society's. Stanza 6, "Human beings" (no hyphen). Second to last stanza: Perhaps end with a colon and not a period? Last stanza, first line "Bottom-most" A hyphen would be appropriate there. I really enjoy the theme of this and only selfishly want more imagery, to fill in the blanks. This could even be expanded to something larger and longer, perhaps. Nice to read you. -Icarus
Recommended Posts