The untouched splendor of the vast terrain forest has
kept my heart here, roots deeply embedded into my soul,
you have been gone for many moons, and I miss the days
when the winds of feral grazed upon our silvery coats
When the moon sleeps to its side, I embrace your image
while silver streams seep into the verge of the night
O, but hear my heart crying out into the eve of soft blue
and hear my cries 'come home now, my brother, come home.'
Though I may be windswept, my heart is barren without
you, and I cry before the heart of the moon. calling for you
to leave all transience behind. We shall go where the winds
of puerile blow, where tamed hearts shall nay ever roam
When the moon rises over hills of nightfall, where always
I come before the soft glow of the moon, rising my bay
where the winds of feral caper through my silvery coat. O
but hear my cries, 'come home now, my brother, come home’
© Rena Scribe 2015
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