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monica richards - the hunt كلمات أغنية

the story is ancient…
i could speak of love as if it had never before been
discovered…
for to fall in love is to walk through a golden doorway
to see sights that were once listless and dull
glow with life.
to feel a fire only known by those
new creatures at the next level of evolution…
yet the story is ancient…
in every culture, there is the tale of a fabulous
creature
that disappears in forests,
and a young man hunts with an aimless arrow, or spear,
…
a bird is then wounded –
or a deer, wounded –
or a tiger, shot with arrow and wounded –
and as he runs to wear he shot the creature,
instead, there lies a woman…
and i lay there, my heart ripped open.
the desperation!
the ability to suddenly forsake all earlier convictions
–
to see now the meaninglessness of life’s little demands
–
to let go of physical need and cast off material
comforts –
to be sick with love, to shed a third, seventh, or
ninth skin –
to awaken the sleeper –
the creature within that rages each night
separated from its glowing, raging source of life –
to love as such, to be sick with love,
its black clouds gripping the hills of the high deserts
like a dragon breathing smoke and fire –
some seek only this
and fall to a living death when it collapses.
or is this is the intention?

- monica richards

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