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Wolf's Poetry


Half-round moon
Solid in the midnight sky
Steady on its arc across the night.

Silent stars at vigil
Bright companions in the boundless journey,
Circling on a separate course
But meeting now and then in friendly passing.

Faithfully they travel on
Oblivious to us, this tiny globe,
Millions of voyagers, millions of journeys
Miles of choices ahead.

Some travel on a steady arc
Hardly a waver or whisper of doubt.
Others halt and falter,
Opting to drop anchor rather than
Plunge into uncharted skies

Not knowing One has drawn the map.
One has sailed the skies, set the course,

Walked the roads.

Gone before.

The hand that gave form to all
Celestial and terrestrial
Reaches out to be taken.

The voice that gave birth to all
Earthly and ethereal
Whispers to every wanderer. . .

"Follow Me."

~~Erin Metcalf~~
© 1997

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