A poem of the mystic thought
The Night Howl
There was a dog howling last night
her mournful whine slithered on the wind.
dancing though the silent trees
weaving into my minds darkened sight.
Alone she cried for mate or friend
with ancient voices of bark and roo.
She touched my heart and spoke of ends
yet something of the call was true.
We civilized humans snarl and bark
demanding justice with wordy snarks
But rarely let out the pain
in howling cry at the worldly strain.
It is not the loneliness that births despair
but despair unhowled
that stifles life's dancing flair.
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