Wake young wolf pup – the cool morning air calls;
The den changes – time; place are different
Agonic lines – are at
declination
Understand the sky - sense
destination.
Mist gives way - the
sun, clearly apparent
Ahead, birch trees,
rows; lines of ghosts standing
In cold facade - yet,
eyes in watchfulness
Western shadows - oppose
day’s beginning
Mystic tense exudes the island – stranding
Time away - from all the conquering
waves;
Crashing material hopes - upon
shore
Suspending pure - above
imperfection.
Breaths taken fully; those not
- left in graves
Of regrets; misgivings – no horizon
And the days grow shorter - the
light concedes
Direction – inclination – perception.
Allowing clarity with darkness risin’
Finding Polaris; a guide to north true
Where spectrum and purpose meet
tangential
Lines of ephemeral man and finite
Surrendering to the moment; the view
The lone wolf’s call across the night
is true
The night fires burn in a distant hue
If sleep never wakes – the
wolf’s long howls knew.
No comments:
Post a Comment