Full moon, bright winter night,

snow covered ground - I am standing

between that which I see and nothing that I feel.

 

My company a half-smoked cigarette,

and a coyote howling in the canyon.

 

The Rio Grande is lonely tonight –

its soul, a long teardrop

caressing the cry of the coyote.

 

Which God is the beast calling?

 

I try to speak but I am fearful my voice will

scratch the night and the beast will learn it is not alone.

 

It must be alone tonight.

 

The two-legged beast is alone tonight

And it has lost its voice…

 

Howl with me to my God

to cure you of your needs….

For your needs you do not need

But only a cry -

to break the night apart.

For that you will need your voice.

 

You are an orphan like me

but you cannot see.

Your eyes are fountains of obscurity.

You create gods, which then you murder.

 

Howl with me to my God,

because my God is nothing and everything.

My God simply is.

 

The moon is a nuisance tonight.

Its light reveals our faults,

and this must not be – not at night.

 

I howl to bring down the moon.

The beast is I and I am the beast.

The moon is our God and the moon must

die tonight.

 

Fivos R Drymiotis © 2006