Spirit Ancient

Spirit Ancient

At times my spirit frets and strains to loose the
chains that bind us to this time and place.
Having knowledge of more exotic locales,
and remembrance of eras when we sucked
in more lusty breaths of life to feed our marrow,
it fights the confinement of this world which is
“too much with us.” *
I empathize, but find it difficult to discern
the path that will take us beyond this
ordinary existence, yet survive our reality.
And because I cannot find the way
we are bound here
in restless, unsettled,
constant search of flight and freedom
to past and familiar places, peoples, ways;
longing to go to what is no longer,
unable to belong here.

So on we plod…
one foot in this world,
one foot in another,
straddling the chasm
that divides them…

without want of one,
without way to the other,
a circular journey…

as my ancient spirit
grieves a loss I feel,
but cannot name;
seeks a home I know,
but cannot find.
-hcb 5/2006



* Wordsworth, William Sonnet: The World is Too Much With Us. 1805.