Citrus moon can you hear my moan
or do the wolves’ cries drowned out my sorrow?
Come back to Earth my dried out Soul
I can’t live long and have none other to borrow.
Borrowed soul you leave me empty & longing
but always, hope waits for tomorrow.
The moon moans while wolves roam,
my lost soul wanders alone… sighing,
“Dust to dust, created beings, all hollow.”
Filled to the brim, weighed down by regrets that sparkle bold against a black cloak, the universe in sorrow.
Adapted from a lessons at Higher Purpose Writers’, Story Vision Retreat
Mick Silva
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