When the moon shines bright,
and the sense of loneliness,
the insignificant piece,
one person normally makes with his life,
washes over him like waves unto to shore;
You understands why the gray wolf howls at the fleeting moon,
why he ignores the chill wind rippling through his mange infested flanks.
This fruitless gesture,
the bone jarring howl,
mirroring the soul of the animal,
crying out with pain,
grief,
torment,
the human like the wolf,
becomes hunter,
stalking his prey,
seeking the elusive scent of another,
one to be with,
hunt with,
howl with,
across the mesas the sound flows,
drifting,
floating,
echoing his despair.
One day,
the trail will become clear, bright,
outlined with the light,
as the moon is,
and show the path to his enlightenment,
the end of his loneliness.
3/19/95
