Post by anirbas on Aug 22, 2006 17:32:41 GMT -6
As I used to sit vigil, insomniacally,
writing into the dawn, I used to be gifted,
for my lack of sleep; with hearing the song,
of the coyote. Running the ribbon of the creek,
meandering at the boundaries, of my property.
Etched from the blackness, by silvern moonbeams,
into fleetly moving, pewtern shadows; singing,
not howling, at the fatted calf, of a full moon.
Yip! Yip! Yip! iiiiiiiii-eeeeeeee. Yip! Yip! Yip!
An eeriely beautiful, haunting seranade.
I loved it so. Hearing it coming in the near distance,
first a whisper of sound. Drawing closer, and closer.
Crescendoing, behind my domicile;
then fading, fading, fading,
into the near distance,
to disappear,
into nothingness,
once more.
Natural beings, they did not harm a soul.
They were beautiful. No, they did no harm.
But, in their wildly joyful noise,
I felt blessed and renewed;
my tired body, rejuvenated,
in the baptism, of their song.
I used to love them.
Now I miss them.
And try not to hate,
the idiotic manboy,
my neighbor's grandchild;
for killing them, each and every one.
One by one, over the course of three nights;
without my knowledge of course!
I used to feel love and peace,
in the coyote's free wheeling,
song of life.
They did nothing. They did nothing. They did nothing!
Now, I try, not to feel hate in their passing.
They had attacked no pets or livestock, in the area.
Their only sin, they were free.
And therefore, free for the taking,
in his pathetic, narrow mind.
I try not to hate him.
As I still miss them.
Their wonderous song.
Instead, I wish,
for them, the wrongfully wronged;
to return some night, and serve him a dish,
of his own, of cold revenge; for the nothingness,
of their unmitigated deaths.
They did nothing but sing and be free.
They did nothing but sing and be free.
They did nothing but sing and be free.
~Sabrina
writing into the dawn, I used to be gifted,
for my lack of sleep; with hearing the song,
of the coyote. Running the ribbon of the creek,
meandering at the boundaries, of my property.
Etched from the blackness, by silvern moonbeams,
into fleetly moving, pewtern shadows; singing,
not howling, at the fatted calf, of a full moon.
Yip! Yip! Yip! iiiiiiiii-eeeeeeee. Yip! Yip! Yip!
An eeriely beautiful, haunting seranade.
I loved it so. Hearing it coming in the near distance,
first a whisper of sound. Drawing closer, and closer.
Crescendoing, behind my domicile;
then fading, fading, fading,
into the near distance,
to disappear,
into nothingness,
once more.
Natural beings, they did not harm a soul.
They were beautiful. No, they did no harm.
But, in their wildly joyful noise,
I felt blessed and renewed;
my tired body, rejuvenated,
in the baptism, of their song.
I used to love them.
Now I miss them.
And try not to hate,
the idiotic manboy,
my neighbor's grandchild;
for killing them, each and every one.
One by one, over the course of three nights;
without my knowledge of course!
I used to feel love and peace,
in the coyote's free wheeling,
song of life.
They did nothing. They did nothing. They did nothing!
Now, I try, not to feel hate in their passing.
They had attacked no pets or livestock, in the area.
Their only sin, they were free.
And therefore, free for the taking,
in his pathetic, narrow mind.
I try not to hate him.
As I still miss them.
Their wonderous song.
Instead, I wish,
for them, the wrongfully wronged;
to return some night, and serve him a dish,
of his own, of cold revenge; for the nothingness,
of their unmitigated deaths.
They did nothing but sing and be free.
They did nothing but sing and be free.
They did nothing but sing and be free.
~Sabrina
