18 march 2010
19.42 (swedish time)
In the aeroplane humans built in their attempts to reach the skies.
We took off in the beginning of dusk, and we flew up into the soft, grey clouds and into the waiting night.
The darkness waited for us, but a moment we hung in milky, foggy grey nothing.
Now over the north sea, soon passing over Denmark.
Soon leaving the waters of the sea that guards my dear kadan.
The sea and stones protecting my dear friend of firm, grey stone and stormy sea.
And on we go.
And on life goes.
And so, we flew into night.
And I smile at the dark, knowing that tomorrow there will be a new day.
And work to do.
Because, I am a Pao, and if I cannot be Pao, who can?
Who can then give the world what I can give it?
I don’t know if there is some meaning or purpose in my life that I don’t know about yet, but I know this;
I am a Pao, the only Pao,
a beautiful creature
— of words and poetry
— about forest and life
a voice powerful and clear
— which can whisper silent songs
— and encouragement
a creature with sharp claws
— and fangs made to tear
— to pieces and to gently
— groom the manes of my
with paws that can destroy
— and create, kill and help
A heart full of compassion and feelings
a mind full of sense and nonsense, dancing
Battle scars, fierce pride;
yet gentle and affectionate.
And that is enough.
Leaving Denmark now.
The stones never change, even when time and weather reduce them to dust.
We sculpt them, use them, and they remain long after we are gone.
My heart and mind, body and soul, bear the mark of time, battle and hardship.
But they are still the same.
Marked by time and lessons violently learnt or gently shown to me.
And yet the same.
I must remember this, and don’t let humans and the city get to me, bring me down.
I can live amongst them and follow their rules as long as they make sense.
And my heart and my thoughts shall remain free and wild, even when I move amongst them, and I won’t let them make me forget.
It would be easier to let myself forget, but I will not.
I shall remain true to myself and look at my reflection with pride and awe.
For such a beautiful creature am I, and my fur is thick and I survived the winter; my claws are sharp and strong, and my eyes are clear.
And my heart has love and compassion,
and it is the heart of a wild animal who hunts without shame or hesitation, who won’t crawl for anyone…
A fiercely proud and loyal wild animal who would protect her pack and her loved ones and fledgelings with rage and narrowed eyes, bared teeth…
and curl up to guard, purr, gently comfort, encourage those depending on her to venture off alone, knowing that she will be there.
And so I left my dear friend of stone and sea, calm and secure, knowing that I can return.
He will be there, a temple of grey stone in my green wild forest.
Safe and waiting.
Where I can return when I need the silence, quiet.
The rest and shelter.
To be still and rest my paws, put my fur and feathers in good order.
He is a man of stone and sea and I am a creature of the wild, wild woods.
And we have our different songs to sing and stories to write.
But our silence can be shared.
A warm embrace
— and a loving, gentle paw.
And I return now to my male, female, other friends.
My pets, my lair.
The returning spring.
I have things to throw out
things to keep
things to mend
Plants to water
plats to sow
and life to see grow.
And a spring to greet.
We are approaching ground.
Time to pack up and get ready.
— Life has returned.