#windstalker wolf

I would write poems of love and gratitude but my words are carried away like snow drifts and leaves astray. With what it brings drifts away. Maybe this is what it means for me to free, like the wind....

listless nights speak softly on through morning, the meadow larks serenade and swoon songs so sweetly they ring through the still air, until they touch your cheek and slowly fade away. the sun slowly sets its bright beams atop the clouds, red and orange hues fashion a brilliant display across the dim lit horizon, with stars fading away into the flooded canvas of dawning twilight. a faint trace of night only remains, the sliver of moon wanes with a single tear tracing from its edge, the star is bright and shines brilliantly; a beaconing site, the only reminder of the reminiscing shades of darkness. let that tear tread down your cheek; let it fall across the sky, I will touch it, and gently place it even higher in the heavens.

Everlast! in starlit eyes shimmering       his eyes glistening with tears graced with his beloved's remembering;     wandering through years lost in fear Spread and shattered like blighted beacons       his thoughts like hollowed wisps slowed of breath his heart weakened,         beyond eternal, this plight will end...

falling on gilded wing    through firmament spiraling beyond depths unspoken;        cries whimpering fears hopelessly lost without tears     pray the heart unbroken.

Be damned the heart of the poet who marches on interludes each note bittersweet and carried in a soft mournful song recounting in long winded measures its fleeting joys, the sorrow wrought from each lightly drawn tone. Among the great peaks cast upon the starlit heavens, into the dark forbidden valleys so deep below the journey never is so sweet to love's weary traveler wayward he finds himself but a lost lorn fool. Senses robbed his mind frayed into hopeless tatters bared and exposed lewdly to the world as he sings like a banner his heart woven into each careful word, through heavy voice woe of love lightens to grace each trodden tear ever escaped, in despised agony; toward heavenly howl that never reaches the moon.

I will always veer toward an instinctual response. I will woof like a doggie on occasion. I don't think about it.. its just habit, I guess. Maybe there are quirks. little things, that help keep me sane and able to deal with this crazy human world. Idiosyncrasies  that set things apart a little bit.