He doesn’t fight or work
or live by the law; he lives
by the land, he survives.
Life is the only life he knows,
not breath for the sake of
promises. He doesn’t
give himself to take, and
he doesn’t take without need.

And he’s no saint.

He is just a life amidst lives,
and his induction into civilisation
kills him. He is not civilised,
he is no servant to you or me,
he is a man by his own ways.
He is not for us nor gods nor
systems; he is for himself and
we’ve killed him. We’ve killed him.

© Blake Leitch October 8, 2014