Turning it again to flesh that used to be,
Though stained darker than before.
If eyes could see with perfect clarity,
The loam unclouded by contemporary lies,
They’d need no gilded tongue to express their yearning.
Forgotten, the cool breeze of a late fall’s night.
Felicity breathing through the skin at a hint of nature’s touch
Small shivers remember the ecstasy of being.
Howling to the hunter’s moon,
Man’s best friend has left him for greater cause.
To lead the way back to an old beginning.