To Silent, Howling

Oh...I heard them

'howling' tonight.

Can't you hear them,

'the children of the darkness'?

Listen to them howl...

ripping...

shredding forgiveness,

stomping the grapes of mercy...

in spite of all good sense...

tearing and burning

the flags of sensitivity...

can you hear them?

listen to them rage,

not as humans,

but as animals...

seeking whom,

they may devour.

It was all written

a fore time,

in the pages of the god,

whose 'word' were forsaken,

and whose love...

were cast down.

It were not a privy thing...

for every eye hath seen,

and every heart hath known,

the evil from the good,

 

and now ye shall be judged...

for ye hath judged thyself,

and may eternity rest ye

from the light,

my dear unruly children

of the night,

and may ye sleep

in dreams

that will not harm,

'mong killer's

that are of thy kind...

sweet dreams my young...

sweet dreams,

forever more,

and on.

Written By Bruce James Clyde 2016,   Deming, New Mexico

Art: Werewolf, by Rick Baker