I sought my soul, my soul replied:
"You will not find me in sensible calm."
The nymph is running, barefoot, through
The woods; hysterical; wild. Swigging
Wine from the bottle. Shouting at
The animals in her path. Seeking out
The fawn, half man, half goat. Smearing
Wild berries across her naked breasts,
Berating the gods and screaming at the sky.
"Here am I" said my soul.
"You long for something pure,
But this? -
This soul is real."