The strange simians with glowering eyes huddle together in the dark
and take comfort in the strength of numbers they cannot yet count,
timid creates vulnerable to everything their apprehensions mark,
bolstering self-confidence by conveying what is tantamount
to epics, legends and mythologies around their campfire bulwark
against the trembling dread, vague panic, awe they must surmount.

Aloneness and defenselessness were felt in the heart of early man
inspiring community and the sacred rituals that defined the clan.

Not that those dark eyes did not shine when the sun would glitter
on glacial snows retreating, or on the waters, or in a woman’s eyes,
which brought a wink and an unromantic conquest which was bitter
to the dependent mate who bore it all and, to this day, still cries
when the one she chose and captured with all her skill would quit her
for a younger one, a more compliant one, and tell transparent lies.

In the heat of passion, she cried, “Oh God!” But such emotion cools.
By rote she learns repeatedly she may dream of love, but lust still rules.

Our ancient mothers lavish frustrated love upon their children
while our forefathers still fight for dominance over the earth,
perpetuating dependence, passed down from cave to modern kitchen,
as well as an increasing sense of intelligent, if primitive, worth.
Men feel taller, adding little to their stature, and their women sadden,
which irony and disharmony is perhaps the source of nervous mirth.

No creature feels as poignantly in the range or depth of the human being
and nothing is as uplifting as the human who is in this life humor seeing.