By Andrew R. Duckworth
What is the wilderness?
That place which is wild, I suppose,
Wilder than an angry dragon
Swinging it’s tail among the sand,
Crafting dunes in its wrath,
The wind from its wings
Kicking up sandstorms.
But, of course, the wilderness
Is more than rock and sand.
It’s a place barely touched by hand,
A place where the dragon
Makes its den of fire,
Stirring up the spirits of temptation
And sending them on their way
To nearby settlements,
A training ground for the untamable.
The dragon might offer one the world,
But only one came away unscathed.
Perhaps such place is not touched
By those of earthly origin
For good reason.
Poetry and Essays of Andrew Ryan Duckworth 