lost and found

In my frenzy I am the rabid fox
hungry, in fear, angrily facing my own trickery
where clarity was, confusion sets in and the earth doesn't smell the same

familiar paths to the safety of dens no longer lead
to a place of rest or a sanctuary from the cold

plans fail
and the world becomes a mirror I am afraid to look at
the den , warm and waiting for winter slumbers has no foxhole

- the forest whispers fox you have no place here -
and i listen - and i choose

I am cold
I am hungry
I am lost

and
the heat of rage
the emptiness of sorrow
and apathy take hold

so I wander in the darkness of my own choices


I am cold
I am hungry
I am lost


and
the heat of rage
the emptiness of sorrow
and apathy take hold



and there along the ridge of this valley
is the Ranger
silently in pursuit
safely at a distance

carefully footing the ridge
not disturbing
just observing

I wander for a time
maintaining ferocity of a rabid mind  
avoiding traps

sure-footedly the Ranger keeps pace
and in my awareness of this 
what stirs is a curiosity

no traps
no darts
no power or abuse of yielding a rifle

The Ranger simply pursues
and in my fatigue leaves morsels of food
no traps just hope of provision

the fear of being ensnared
gives way as fatigue overcomes frenzy
and i begin to find myself in the forest

with rest , provision and a passive pursuer
the forest whispers - Fox , you belong here - rest and embrace your Maker

no traps
no darts
just mercy and beckoning

and i listen - and i choose

and the heat of my rage melts
and my belly is full
and feels for what seems the first time

and clarity overtakes confusion and familiar scents
lead my nose down a path of familiarity
home

i have a place here
i am warm
i am embraced in the arms of the Maker

i find my foxhole and it is waiting for me