Howl
The indifferent wind caresses his skin as reality fades into the distance,
Gradually, the frigid air becomes heavy and obvious in its presence.
His feet, firmly placed on the edge of the cliff, flirt with frostbite
And the idea of plummeting down into the soft unkown.
Howling into the impartial wilderness, his echo pauses
Before reeling back to slap him, as if to make sure he’s still alive-- still present.
The animals lay silent to his tortured wails,
To his lonely laments that carry an entire lifetime in a single, hollow ring.
The high octave of his echo loses its urgency in the redwood trees and jagged cliffs,
Frantically bouncing off canyon walls as if to wake up the slumbering forest.
His fragmented howls cut through the thick silence, only to fade out once again.
Lost to the obsolete language of the downy finch and blood red maple leaves.
He sounds his tortured cries to drown out the beating of his heart,
Unleashing his insecurities and regrets to the indifferent world.