The night air stirs.
Unexposed, I meet my universe.
The trees greet me in the moonlight.
They peer and whisper with the wind.
In its madness, the wind paints everything.
In the darkness of my imagination,
What courses, what causes moments
To gleam and never die,
There's a shaded sky,
The shifting of leaves,
And a mare on the rise.
I blush and know I exist,
Aging with these colors of green and gray.
I am of discussion, alive
In the phantom romance of the woods,
But the wolf calls for me.
In this siren, death approaches and I freeze.
This world of green, without path or marking,
Is drawn by instinct, pointing everywhere.
The wolf's eyes, ever-wide
Without sun or star to guide,
Yet I am found.
No comments:
Post a Comment