To the hungers that be not satisfied,
to the ravings in the night,
to all things wild and beautiful,
I would go running with you,
fierce things in the night.
To the passions like wild horses,
running here and there,
leaping high over what
boundaries,
I want to go with you,
immortal lust,
I want to follow you.
Say not of me
'I am a mad woman',
or I am this craven thing,
unfulfilled, fresh
and needy.
It be not flesh's demands,
but the spirit that craves it so.
Wildness in the blood!
I taste it!
I have a fierceness.
See, my teeth have such sharp points!  
I will dream my dreams,
and have my passions,
invent my worlds,
and go running, running,
running in the night,
with the 'wild things',
wild and beautiful.
I will go running,
until my spirit is spent
and happy.
I am grateful for my dreams,
and I do not toss a one away.
Still, of the quietness in the day,
I will be patient.
Patience is good for the wine,
the wine that I drink at night.
Age my visions, and season them
with time,
like ripened fruit,
so very delicious.
I, alone, taste these fruits,
but I offer them to you.
I think they are of lasting goodness.
Am I the woman 'raving in the night'?
Still, with cool patience,
a taming influence,
hot waters run cool.
I will not burn.
I laugh at my solitary visions,
but it is not a mean laugh,
not a hard laugh.
I feed on dreams,
without guilt.
Did you think I should have guilt?
But I don't hold to that.
No, I rejoice in the wildness.
Who said it best,
''in wildness is preservation of life''?
''We the living'' will keep on living.