Greater God-

My voice echoes through mountains
I am wiser than ancient bear
I know everything for I am one
In these back woods if you didn’t know

I light fires with my eyes
Command the weather with my beard
I am the original god of hunting
Don’t dare forget my name

Young elk, you are to pale too weak
To young to know the ways that I AM
Fresh scent and soil within MY domain
Your steps betray your innocence here

And the neon clouds over head
Burst into tears, releasing inspired rain
Down Down upon ego eyes
Blind to the mystic and magicK of it all
Caught up in Western reality of faith in materialism
Open wounds absorb the salt of irony

In the distance, a wolf thinks it Howls
With Might and Majesty but rests in temporal lies
Not Howling in the Night
But crying to the moon
Lunar sonnets revealed from secret muse

But I am the True Bear, you Are but a cub…….
With holes in my pockets of realism
Dropping names as a dime store joke
The forest hidden with gems and mysteries invisible to the naked eye

Are they not there?
If you “cannot gaze upon them”
With Your Own eyes?

You reel in agony with a thorn in your paw, with disclaimers of how valiant you truly are
And we are awed by your brilliance
Dancing in steps
To the Rhythm of fake deceit

Sunshine glory cascades through emerald foliage
Who is the hunted
Who is the hunter
Paranoid righteousness fuels the All
There are No muse
Not to the naked eye
Or
At least that’s what I’ve been told

Whispered secrets from ancient gods
Inspiration from the lips of desire
Spirits sing sonnets of beauty and decay
But transmission is not received
To the western physical mind

In the end
Fires are squelched
Words tossed like volleyballs
To an fro
The Roar of the Beast
Energized with lies upon lies
Self validation of it’s Own existence
Dining in it’s quarters
Beneath branches of wilderness
It resides there, cultivating the persona of southern outlaw
That he alone holds
The doors
Of
Grace

*(matthew bowers)* ~93
©2021