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*A new Palace Feature… listen if you can’t read πŸ˜‰

Wildlife

What is wildlife? Must we live in a jungle,Β to be considered
wild
life?

Or can one be completely free beneath a stone wall in a suburban forest?
Wild on the clothesline between feeder and the abyss.

And who does the considering?

Are the crows still wild, sending squirrels to our cars to open up their lunch? Is that hunting or just innovative scavenging? Is that wild or weird?

Timing is everything.

Who determines what makes people wild?

What makes the difference between wild and weird?

And who draws the line?

I’ve discovered I am untamable. I don’t do well in a box or a cage or the constrictions of anyone else’s insecurity.

And I like it that way.

The sounds of the bog woke me this morning followed by the truth of target practice in the distance.

If societal constriction determines levels of normality, then I live in the wild.

I enjoy the jungle of my mind unfettered by activity or need to please a system of conformist determination.

Who’s approval matters most when I question my next move?

Who’s opinion counts in the flow of my groove?

In the safe zone of my untethered soul I find a place within the cross-sections of undetermined truths.

There are no mistakes here. Unless I compare my song with you, who can only draw the line for me, if I believe your line is true.

I am moving to a jungle where everyone’s allowed to dance our own beauty and sing it aloud.

To live in our true power–stand together and be proud.

I don’t belong in Babylon if I can’t beat the rhythm of my own drum. For if I choose the settlers way that’s who I become.

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