Anonymous

How lonely is the night without the howling of wolves.

And in the clearness of the cold,

The rivers’ eroded, deadened, downtrodden;

the passageway home corrupted ” to be seen nevermore…

In travesties are some empowered creatures born of war - Those leaving trails of dust and trash forevermore!

So tread toward which silenced - or clanging- direction?

With what music, since all is mourn, will the way back home be found?

Since the land is without the impact of that undulating, and balancing sound?