The Song of Loves Lament

With the scent burning in my nose I need not rush. Ill take my time with this journey. I’ll sing a song, one of loves lament. One that will draw out the creatures of the night to wail at mother Luna. She will be pleased. After all it was she who taught me these songs long, long, long ago.

I hum a few bars as I stroll past a rotting stump; just to feel the rhythm of the woods. When I get the rhythm right I open my voice and let my soul escape. These words I sing only the “lowly” creatures of the woods would understand.

Not before long on my mission to find the scent , I come to a stream. In these dark woods on this dreary warm summer night I realize something. The stream is singing along with me. The streams constant flow matches my song of ever constant need to move along. It rushes forward to reach its crescendo. Reminds me of a young Whren.

As I sing my song I remember a time when my eyes were bright with cause. Bright with the need to be where I belong. I sing with all the longing I can muster with in my very being. I sing the song to the salmon returning home.

Home. Home is where you belong. With this scent in my nose, its taste on my tongue. With the feeling in my chest. I am the river. Home is a destination. Home is where the scent is. Home is with her.

I sing the song of a home just out of reach. This song I hope she will dance to. I sing a song of the moon on earth. Ever present as it is on this dreary warm summer night. The very symbol of something so intoxicating yes so far beyond my grasp.

Mother Luna is touched by the song I sing. She begins to weep more, and wail as the winds pick up to lend their strength to my song. A fog rises in my mind and to my senses. I’m going to have to trust the scent even more now. This could get dangerous. With this realization I abruptly stop my song.