Macho

Oh ye stubborn men,
Macho men born from a dying age,
Where wooden clubs drag the dirty cave floor.

I am not the doe-eyed giver,
You are not the thrusting hunter,
We are equals in life's elliptical dance.

Hunter, hunted, mating and the bloody kill,
A creation for no man to feel his place,
An empty fire pit, longing to give warmth.

Macho man you are a wall of sharp stone,
An ungiving, relentless non-confession,
Keeping the secrets, the holder of time.

Keep your stony pride,
Keep your thorny mindlessness.

At the end it always is the lack of respect,
To give and place the Doe-Eyed Man as willing, companion-hunter,
As a yielding and loving flesh/mind/soul.

Respect ... Sacrificing Time ... Respect,
These things alone ignite and maintain the fire pit,
And prepare the day for another hunt, and a two-man kill.