The Wind Echoes The Owl...

It's late at night
and I'm running again
Running and thinking
Thinking about the world
that hides somewhere
in all this darkness and
rests reticent somewhere
beneath all the lunar silence
And I'm wishing someone
could wake us all from
our nightmarish slumber
as a breeze brings banter
from a banal barn-owl

& I listen for the wind
as...
The wind echoes the owl
...wHOO...wHOO...

My mind is filled with flickers
of names, & news, & nonsense
as the wind calm and cool
carries the faintest sounds
from the eons far and wide
to where my ears reside
I'm wondering of the origins
of all these ancient whispers
and I wish this wind knew
a name to cast the blame
for all these diurnal blights
and perpetually placated pains

& I listen for the wind
as...
The wind echoes the owl
...wHOO...wHOO...

My mind and muscles
in automated-ataxia run along
to the convoluted cadence of an
unsung &/or unsingable song
The song of some syllabic-search
for rhymes and reasons
that can only be feigned as such
and quiesced at the sounds
of this song's own treasons
As essences of words themselves
demand to be declared through
exhalations of some divine
or decent/dignifiable name

& I listen for the wind
as...
The wind echoes the owl
...wHOO...wHOO... 

My mind and muscles
diminished of all might tonight
return to where they first began
this run upon the nocturne-land
And I'm left to question who I am
And who cares
And who knows...
As the world still hides
in all this darkness
and the inquired words
are hushed by starkness

& I listen for the wind
as...
The wind echoes the owl
...wHOO...wHOO...