A river black, is rising, drinking water for the wolves. Violently the foam engulfs the rocks in a lovely roaring song. The reflection of the hanging moon, haunting. The dark filling my eyes, how shallow, the life once was. So swallowed down I am. At night only the white gleaming marrow of bone, a contrast to this darkened bed of death. At rest, far from the waves a longing hum is deep within this skull.