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Chasing tigers and fish, never stilled. Always moving, moving from tree to tree, seeing everything there is to see. Night falls and you slumber as all must do. You dream that you cannot move, you cannot see, falling, falling from the tree. Now you must awake to find that it was not just a dream. The death of a wild man.
©2009-2010 ~shomu1025
:iconshomu1025:

Author's Comments

Written for creative writing. We had to write prose poems based on the 4 types of men from Dylan Thomas' "Do not go gentle into that good night".

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November 17, 2009
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