The Hour of The Wolf
In the hour of the wolf
the time of midnight sun and midday moon,
there are questions
On the hour of the wolf,
the dark hearts hin and the pure hearts quail,
and the questions still remain
At the hour of the wolf,
that which was immutable is insubstantial
and that which was smoke and shadow
responds to your touch,
and the questions become insistent
Upon the hour of the wolf,
Hours last for minutes, and minutes last for seconds,
and seconds last forever,
and there are questions
When it’s the hour of the wolf,
You’ll punish yourself, praise yourself.
You’ll love and hate yourself.
Cry about what you did right,
rejoice about what you did wrong.
And you’ll ask yourself who am I,
why am I, and what’s the point.
After the hour of the wolf,
You’ll know who you are,
why you are, and what the point is.
But you’ll be alone
And alone, you’ll never recognize your answers.
And you’ll never leave the hour of the wolf.