Howling at the moon

The dark plaintive cry of the wolf emanates from his soul,
it stirs within us our most primal instincts as we feel his pain,
his sorrow and his passion for his pack...

No violin nor saxophone, even in the hands of the most skilled musician,
has ever matched the atmosphere of the worlds most mournful cry...
in a moment we are captivated by the raw emotion
which echoes across the darkened hillsides..

we feel the pain and heartache of a thousand generations
and the power and depth of his sincerity...
we empathize with the trauma and sadness of the moment,
and try to understand the message as he turns his head to the skies
and lets the wind and the hillside carry the ancient story...

I hear the wolf and I want to console him,
I do not envy his position, nor his anguish,
but I envy his ability to let his emotions flow,
in a way that we are unable to do..
Right now, in the stillness of this night,
when I again cannot sleep...
I want to turn my eyes towards the moon...
and howl like the wolf... And let it all go.