Bird Soul

Barren rock, Snow as wild as his hair, The Quest For Knowledge In Frozen Earth. He seeks not the voice of man to guide him, But the calling of the wilderness. It gnaws inside of his rib cage, And his heart, Like a pack of infinate Northern birds. Swooping, Diving, Pecking at bone, Sending bird calls to the brain. They caw and coo for him to tear at the fabric of his fake furs, And expose skin to ice, Expose birds to sky. His soul birds are screaming to the wild, And his body is tired, Seen as useless, He doesn’t need it anymore. So he opens his shirt, And lets the birds out.