| Brother Wolf |
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By Kiara Windrider Desolate winds howl in icy winter night. Wolf stops in his endless wanderings, Lends his own voice to the wind. How can it be when like calls to like, When creatures of the night come out to congregate, That life is so strangely fed in darkness? The silent vastness swirls— These riches can only be seen By one whose eyes are empty of seeing, When the fires of desolation Have flared up, then died away, When the last ember has faded. How can it be, my soul, That I hear you so clearly now When all my certainties Have shriveled away with this dying ember? The storms of separation have passed, Only the wet snow bears witness. I have found my voice In the softly running, silent howling Wild pulsing heart Of brother wolf. |