To Conquer the Beast

How long does it take to conquer the Beast?

Weeks, months, years; a lifetime?

Is such a thing even possible?

To stare into Its weeping eyes,

To hear Its final scream,

and slay it once-and-for-all?

If I speak frankly, I know it is not.

The Beast prevails, because the Beast is all.

It is Me, It is You, It is Everything that ever was;

will be; is. And We do prevail.

Tamed then, perhaps? Can the Beast be tamed?

How long does it take to tame the Beast?

It is everchanging, as You know, forever evolving,

forever keeping up with what’s inside of Us.

Does this nature allow for some relationship to develop

between Me and the Beast? Perhaps. Can It be tamed?

That’s a different question. Taming suggests a hierarchy,

a superior and an inferior, Me and the Beast. Me in control.

And We both know that that’s not where I am

(as much as it pains Me to admit that).

Calmed. It can be calmed. It can be calmed enough to speak,

and once It speaks, once I speak to It, the relationship

can grow, everchanging, forever evolving, but serene.

(Much of My poetry uses that word. Serene. Perhaps it is wishful thinking,

or perhaps it is some sort of a fear. Perhaps it is destined for Me as much as

everything else is. It is the Beast, after all.)

How long does it take to calm the Beast, then?

Weeks, months, years; a lifetime?

I do not know. If I had to guess:

Two hundred ninety four days;

a trip to the forest;

a date gone wrong;

three birthday parties;

thirty nine steps;

a new year;

a piercing pain;

a milestone celebration;

a new job;

new bruises;

and probably much more.

The Beast speaks; I answer; and now We can carry on.