A place of endless loneliness.
Yet there is vibrant life there, too,
And it is not an emptiness
But forms a crowded symphony
Of life and breath. Its endless song
Calls out within the depth of those
Who rise to follow it along.
I feel it washing over me,
A wolf call to the harvest moon
That echoes from a mountain crest
And as elemental two commune
I let my soul drift into it
And slip into my restless dreams.
On silent feet, down ancient pathes
Beside its frozen winding streams.
© 2012 Pam H. Murray
May 26, 2012
No comments:
Post a Comment