The Hour of the Wolf
3am, the Wolf's Hour - and I am lost.
Weaving shadows thread in an arachnids net,
Suspended before his eyes, my soul's tossed,
Inverting from within, meaning's silhouette.
The Wolf's rule is law - The arbiter of sleep:
Nothing is sacred- childhood hopes nor fear.
From a parliament of dreams no tyrant reaps,
Hallucinogenic leers serve to domineer.
Held in his grip by the abyss, I toss
I turn; yearning the end of the nocturne.
While most men lie with nature's nurse - Oh Loss
Feral hunt by Gabriel's Hounds; end my turn!
The thousand eyes of night, by day turn one,
While by stencilled stars, the wolf awaits in wanton.