The Query

I grew up on a ranch and then in a small town. It was by chance that I later ended up in a city, and then another, and another. Cities are like jungles in many ways, and they seem to have a gravity of their own. Once there, I found it hard to get out.

The wilderness is vast and hard

And seems devoid of needful things.

Although abundant, life is poor,

And crawls and slithers, grasps and clings;

And every day, it runs the race,

Unmindful of the traps and springs.

The jungle and its canopy

Bedim the shadow and detail;

As darkened alleys cloud the mind,

The touch of green is but a veil.

The predator and prey are heard…

A distant roar… a muffled wail.

The mountains rise in grit and stone,

And deserts claim the source of life;

The rivers are like open wounds

Inflicted by a dirty knife.

And in the sea, the common mass

Surrenders to the salt and strife.

This life, which I aspired to have,

Appears uncivilized to me,

With savage wants and hungry hands,

And dark foreboding mystery.

Oh, lights a-buzz and starless nights,

Is this the place I want to be?