adventures in dysthymia

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Cave Art

No mammoths are on these walls,
these rocky hidden walls,
ancient low-vaulted temples
to visions of beast and man.

No horses nor bison nor stags
with wide spread antler crowns
run here. No shaman dances
as horned god of the hunt.

I have carried torches
into these hollows, daubed
my dreams across the dark
spans of their empty depths.

I have placed my symbols,
secret cyphers, in sunless
caves. None shall know them.
They are my conversations

with the spirits of the forest,
the animal guides that walk
with me. They are the map
I follow to myself.

Such myths have I woven
of my heart, the stories
of who I am. They fill
me with me. They create

me as I create them.
No mammoths are found on
these walls; an age ago
they followed north the mists.

Stephen Brooke ©2011

I churned this one out rather rapidly and it is most certainly a candidate for rewriting. It incorporates a few phrases and ideas I've jotted down for essays (which will be forthcoming) but was actually precipitated by a news item about cave paintings I saw this morning.

addendum: late afternoon and I've a revised version up. Smallish changes, really, and there may be more. But probably not posted here.

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