For what did the coyotes call last night
what bellowing echo lingered there
what yearning whispered in the proud wolf's howl
and what magic erupted from the eyes of the owl
What dream remained in the lingering light
as day slipped away, fading into the night
There is nothing left but the memory of dreams
not even the will to be as it seems,
filled with desire
or maybe, to just slip away
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