What if there existed only nature,
Nothing constructed by mind or hand?
Would the land remain scarred and dirty,
Or retain a cleansed quality, free of touch?
Could I prevent the spinning ideas, the turning,
Absorb the world’s state without it taking over me?
Would the imperfections still apply, persist in the memory,
Or change, dependent upon view and voice?
What levels would appear from the ground up,
To pepper the horizon and surround my position?
What if there existed no tools or weapons,
Nothing to arm myself or defend my spot?
Would a fear come over me, cause me harm,
Or grip me into paralysis of imagination?
Could I rest from the travel, sleep exposed,
Take myself away from the hidden, living dangers?
Could I skip the confrontations and treachery
Absorb instead each interaction from a distance?
Would my dwelling pass the test of scrutiny,
Or be raided by all those unsavoury beasts?
What death would I choose as I wait for the pack
To scatter the soil with my matter and past?
David A. Church