My Wild Dogs.

A wild dog rages, I hear it’s howl
and in my dreams I hear its growl.
It hungers still fo heart and soul;
a vicious beast who’s never whole.
Another wild dog stands on high,
backdropped by a beauteous sky.
Which one I am I do not know;
in which direction I will go.
“The choice is yours” I hear you say
but many forces are at play.
At times I hunger for the wild;
to be the wild dog twice reviled
but running free in mountains high
to take down prey, howl at the sky.
Then Wilderness comes to the fore;
a gentle place – who cold want more.
Still I would howl to greet the dawn;
but done to greet and not to warn.
One day I’ll know my chosen way;
to howl at or with the day.

About a foolhardy florilegium

Nullius addictus iurare in verba magistri, quo me cumque rapit tempestas, deferor hospes.
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