Howling at the Moon
My howl grows weaker as the Summers come and go,
And the Winter’s bitter gales bring harsh realities to my world.
My aging body grows weary in its long seasonal quest to know,
To find in my meandering search the truth unfurled.
Yet, some abiding glimmer of Faith bids me journey on
As I see the eager and young give rise to the next tomorrow,
To kindle old desires, awaken my mind to a new kinder dawn,
Tease me with truths-bearing wisdom I might better know.
Then, as years speed by steadily, and my steps limp along,
The world seems more precariously out of its orbital sync
As though some treacherous fate on wicked winds so strong’
Comes to claim its ownership of an orb no longer able to think.
Poem by Billy Ray Chitwood – February 2, 2018 (Prev)
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