Song of the Jungle Gypsy

I was lost then

In the busy of your mean streets

Its drowning deafening noise

Men of crusty souls creeping in the dark

To worship their neon gods

But I am found now

On the comfort of the soft undergrowth

Looking up the tall trees

As the sun rays pierce through the canopy

Leaning forward to kiss the earth

I left footprints on every city street

Yet home at last is my gypsy soul

In the very palms of the creator

His mountains, His rivers and swamps

From gorge to gorge, meadow to meadow

My books of veined leaves

Lifting fluttering young birds to fly

I have loved the wilderness

For loving humans is painful

For it has loved me in return

In the end it’s the jungle’s fragrance

The scent of goodness that remains

And so when the clouds let forth

I will lift my face to the skies

And drink directly from the cup of God.

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