[Wilderness] [Walk your dog, even - especially - if you don't have one. Walk it regularly. Walk it in the woods. Walk it in the fields. Walk in the dunes. If you are lucky at all, walk it in the mountains...] In depths of forest, far from city's roar, Where ancient silence guards the sacred door, The wilderness stands as symbol pure, Of truths that in the soul root and endure. A refuge from civilization's weight, Where weary hearts can contemplate, The essence of what makes us whole, The mirror of the searching soul. Here Turgenev found his peace, Where troubled spirits find release, And Tolstoy saw life's truest face In nature's wild, untamed embrace. Both sanctuary and test of will, Where time itself seems standing still, The wilderness whispers what we've lost We've lost true freedom and enormous are the hidden costs... In Russian woods, Prishvin heard The temple's voice without a word, Where God speaks through the rustling leaves To hearts that truly still believe. Ambivalent this symbol stands: Sweet solace or forgotten lands? Pure wisdom or the path to fear? The choice depends on who draws near. So wilderness remains our loudest guide, The place where unspoken truths and self that's groomed by masses' currents collide, Where artificial and man-made sins can melt and fall away, And authenticity can souls recall, collect and into the world carry. The authenticity that's just a vibe beyond as undercurrents flows, And easily, without single word, the loudest, biggest slogans and approvals topple.... Alive, alive, alive in every line...... Your courage and your truth they move, they glow as the undercurrent... the seeds that shine.....
