TO A WOLF
Who runs through the woods
Silent and swift - no stranger to darkness,
Awaiting the coming of moonlight
to bathe in its incandescent glow;
Cavil and howl; bringing terror to all.
These are the masters of the night.
These wolves who move in packs-
Confident of the strength their numbers make.
So they gather and travel together,
Baring their teeth on hapless prey.
Nature has made them what they are.
Only the Creator knows why they are.
But Man is not meant to be a wolf -
to roam in darkness; to hunt for souls,
to destroy the meek and quiet,
to own the earth.
You(Man) may have desired to possess -
yet you stopped to dispossess yourself
touched a fellow human
gave him something of yourself -
a smile, a song;
a drink and a bite to eat.
You(Man) may have tarried after dark;
waited in moonlight
to catch an unwary heart
or snare him in your power -
but you did not.
In your basest instincts, you can be a wolf.
You can be just as ferocious.
As capable of entrapment and viciousness.
You(Man) are stronger than that.
You have the gift of rising above this pit.
of leaving the night and waking to light
of loving instead of hating,
of sharing warmth instead of turning cold.
I shall slumber in peace tonight.
Many wolves there may be out there.
But if you are the wolf who knocks on my dreams,
I shall not awake nor close my doors.
I shall hug my thoughts and go on with my sleep.
For you are one who is not of the pack.
You are one special wolf.
-----------------------© Jotte: November 10, 1998