Most of my adult life has been lived in relative solitude in the second-growth forest of the Missouri Ozark. I have seen my share of city life, and done some time in abject wilderness. In a true wilderness in the absence of light pollution on a clear moonless night the sky is an unbelievable blaze of stars and it is so dark that you can not see your hand in front of your face. For all it's blazing glory nothing that requires the use of one's eyes can be done by the light of the stars.
Twice in wilderness I have found myself in difficult situations. I've had run-ins with bears, and been on iffy cliff faces: I don't mean that kind of thing. Twice I have in the course of an otherwise ordinary day slowly come to realize that I had gotten myself in jeopardy and things could go either way, and if I couldn't sort it out by my self no one would know or care. The silence of the stars is absolute.
All creatures care about something if only hunger. The thing that most separates one kind of creature from another is the development of the capacity for caring. The human capacity for caring is limited and infinite. We have natural limits such as our perceptions, and we have artificial limits such as personal and cultural prejudice. Caring is life's most precious gift.
The silence of the stars is majestic, eternal, and mechanical. The only thing that will save humanity from its own darkness is the light of caring.
Little Blond Girl on a Leash
little blond girl
huddled on the curb arms around your legs and head upon your knees
your well-being is now the beach ball of external forces
and no parlor trick of sentence structure will restore you to your senses
the gay bright lights don't care
nor the shills before the rowdy open doors
and the noisy throng of dissipation seeking revelers knows
that you
you insignificant and fallen city bird
are on your own
your single ally's name is
Time
for though unconcerned with your well being
Time alone can tether Hazard
and most certainly
Hazard has you on a leash
