~ Running With The Moon ~

Another older poem in the 'spirit' of the season....

The dying sun sinks,

and red daylight shrinks,

the night is coming soon.

I feel the tingle and swell

of the mystical spell,

when I'm running with the moon!

 

The Wolf deep inside,

will no longer hide;

teeth and claws gleam white.

Swift, fierce rampage,

of bloody, savage rage

when the moon shines full tonight!

 

Rending and ripping,

my red fangs dripping,

I savor the fear-laden feast!

Sharp cracking of bone,

a howl of pain, all alone,

and the madness of feeding the beast!

 

An endless run through the dark,

senses amplified, sharp.

The hunter pulses through my veins.

Finally seeking dead sleep,

my secret to keep,

'till the curse inside mercifully wanes...

 

The moon at last dips,

the insanity slips,

and the memories fade into black.

To be me again, soon,

after a run with the moon,

though I know next month the beast will be back....
~ C.L.R. © 2003 ~