Heart.

A sound that cuts your breathing.
The long, s l o w wavering resonance of a wolf cry.
Straining your ears, holding your breath.
The dogs will join in his song,
Silence and winds and nothing.
The moonlight slowly spying ‘round the corner of your window.
Shut the curtain, keep the eyes away.
Broken by the winds, the trees and then,
The long, s l o w wavering resonance of a wolf cry.
Again and again and you wonder,
You must wonder, what deep sadness that creature sleeps in.
Thought suffocates you and the moon in unmistakable,
Anger,
Forces through your moment as your room brightens suddenly.
Whitens. Blinking with the hope, breathing.
Within a frozen instant you lie, facing the ceiling.
Chest rising, chest falling, chest choking as you hear.
The long, s l o w wavering resonance of a wolf cry.
The infinite melancholy of that beast wishing perhaps,
(You must believe)
That it were less of what it is and more of what it might have been.
A person. Or. A wolf. But. Never. In, between.
(For as fearful as it mourns its fate and as ghastly as its eyes portray its soul in despair the beast would perhaps love to be something other. He would welcome, perhaps, a falling heart)
What beast has a heart.
Disorientation. You strain your ears and hold your breath.
As the moon creeps backwards and the sun laughs loudly in its golden light.
As the winds stops and begins to burn and your wondering is spent for four minutes think to that beast,
With no Heart.
(For you must believe. He would not be granted redemption should he sing to the gates of heaven, only death will save his damned soul. Tainted to mourn forever, tainted, as
The long, s l o w wavering resonance of a wolf cry
Echoes that of your human heart.