A playful fantasy to live under the guise of a simple man, to be nurtured and fulfilled by simple places, plain homes and conversations, but those are too small and stagnant for me. My dreams and thoughts are to big and wondrous to bury in the back yard, yet I have come to appreciate the simple things in life.
To be a simple man,
finding all the answers in brand names and beer cans,
chasing faceless skirts, wearing dirty jeans and a T-shirt
To be a simple man,
join the Marines and marry out of high school
fulfilled by sports cars and the same old circling fools
To be a simpler man,
love one woman and never wish for another
Enjoying dinner with your family and calling your mother
To be a simpler man,
playing poker with the boys every Thursday night,
writing songs, playing the guitar and getting in fist fights.
To be a simpler man,
Raising some daughters and racing home to your wife
Hanging your hat and worry at the door,
racing home to that life with the pedal on the floor,
To be a simpler man, that would be alright.
I am the type to hide myself in simplicity, running miles away from any scene where I’d have to confront the depth and energy of my own character. I need to be kept in endless adventure, mystery, wonder and awe, and hi-jacked every good thing in my life in the pursuit. There are simple mysteries, bottomless natural beauties that I am happily naive to. The natural wonders, the rare, strange marvels, people, scenes and occurrences that are simply, and most beautifully complicated and ever changing. I could spend my entire life with someone who just kept me guessing what the hell I was looking at.
There is beauty in the struggle of understanding. I am still chasing That wonder that sparks the imagination and makes men worry and question everything about themselves- the very definition of a woman.
I want to be happily wrapped up in those endless mysteries and people whom I will likely never understand but allow my imagination to play, keeping me addicted in humble appreciation. I have been a lucky and cursed man to know such people. Such a bittersweet fruit, knowledge at such a young age. Knowing full well that there are those who play and live to change and grow every moment of their waking lives, leaving you no time to figure them out completely, can absolutely ruin a young man and may yet do me in as well. I relentlessly Chase after butterfly chasers and rock hoppers, mermaids and wanderers. I know not if it is their sweet fragrances or that of my own imagination that I have been chasing all these years.
I’ve hidden in the simple, taking refuge from my heart, only for my heart and soul to drag my rational senses away from all too many comfortable places. I stick out like a straight man at a U2 concert. I am too old now to claim ignorance to myself, and if there is one thing an arrogant man knows, it is himself. I know that my spirit, body, mind and entire self yearn for rare fruit and mystery. I have trained myself to live the epic and pursue it and god help me, the current is too swift for me to change course now.
I no longer have a mind for mad science and personal, social experimentation. I want something real worth winning over. I am a bored 10 year old again, kicking up dirt and complication, praying for excitement, and settling for a stick and a mud pit, nothing to keep me busy but my own imagination.
The notion of settling is unsettling to me. I was born to strive, to win over, to earn laughter and warrant good company. I don’t settle down until after the victory lap. I’ve felt at home and at peace in wonder, constant movement, growth, close friends and great conversation.
I see now why I am prone to being a hermit. I am busy on a game trail looking for endangered species and protecting them from poachers who’d take them only as trophies. I have almost forgotten what it is like to hold such flowers, to dance with that soul addiction, yet I can never be rid of a memory just as a man could never forget his first taste of honey. That sweet nectar that settles on the back of your tongue reminding you of both its beauty and torturing you with its scarcity as it retreats down your throat.
Those wonders that stay fresh on the tongue keep me going. Call me simple, but the sweetest nectar I know rest in the rarest flowers.
