Day of the Wolf

a reply to: primalfractal

I don't know but calling something a deer when it's just a type of goat or any other name is just sort of silly in the same way there is in reality no wolf just another dog. Maybe what gets called occam's razor is both the cause and the blame at the same time... it's not really the name that gives it any power or distinction but the breath both sacred and profane that go into it as some other life when it is the same thing as it was previously.

One could say it jealousy of the caterpillar becoming a butterfly ad even with all the riches in the world they could ever have or how much venerated or treated as a god on earth groomed to answer questions that would typically be asked other than in name it is something they could not accomplish other than with theatre and acting.

Shape shifting whether real or imagined is a path or as a path is best left abandoned as the need arises like water from the sky life will fit or fulfill whatever vessel fitting for it... realizing what one is already leaping the net and jumping the rod is the noblest of all pursuits and it requires not going anywhere or not being anybody to find out assuming one is "human" or that human is even the best life form is a very common fault not knowing that to be truth one is easily under the influence of who knows what also thinking themselves as human when who knows if that is really the case or ever was for anyone involved. Attached to sound builds many houses seeing one's ears picking up a hammer or a shovel should be taken as a warning like hearing pans flute as a woman or the sirens song when a man.

Being spirited away is easy holding ground where there really is none is what walking in the clouds is really all about. Of course what gets called nature wants and desires you to nurture the breeding, control, and dominance impulse since it is already wanting and desiring why be a co-operating cause? Beyond those causes then that desire and wanting is clearly not the self such pans and sirens call for like a blind shepherd still smell goats milk and hearing sheep bells and the muttering of the flock on pranksters lips that have stolen them all away.

How funny is it though that he can die on the spot happy having finally found some worthy herdsmen to take his place knowing they were herding him the whole time.