Far beyond that one, ephemeral day,
Vitality ever flies, clear and shimmering.
Within the lone wolf’s mournful howl
They heard their own cries, calling out, calling in return.
These are ones who lived beyond their sorrow,
For all in their sunrise to see.
the sunset Of their one flutter of light
Has scattered their existence.
Perhaps we will glimpse an old reflection of ourselves,
In the still and silent water,
Or perhaps, when the lightning strikes,
We will once again raise leafy hands to the sky,
Aware of the intertwining roots,
Anchoring us firmly to the heart of earth,
And the way we take light into ourselves,
A feast of the many colors.
The great charged arcs from the dark clouds above,
Illuminate the core of us from inside out.
I am here, now,
In this starlit night,
And I become the lonesome wolf cry,
You, the moon I call to.
You, shining through the mist beyond the horizon,
I find we have once again traded places.
I will shelter you from the storm,
Though its anger strikes out, I stay your tears.
The map is lost,
Though that’s not stopped any of us from making the journey,
And always I will hold you safe,
Far from bitter winds, even when it seems no one understands.
The Sound of What Happens 