Wild Man Eyes

Someone is singing up in a tree.
It‘s the crazy minstrel of God.
Only birds are listening.
Flowers fall
from a wild tongue;
oils run out of fingers
to sooth a wounded body.
Somebody is howling
his pain to the sky.
Someone is shouting
his prayers to the sun.
Someone is being born
in crazy wisdom.

Blake Steele


About Blake Steele

I am a poet, writer, workshop leader, recording artist... half monk, half pirate, passionate for Life and Love to triumph in the world. I'm American by birth, but am living in Sweden for a while: writing, growing, deepening with amazing, open-hearted people, as well as developing Wild Words Creative Writing Classes and Wild Souls Workshops around the world.
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