It is a She-wolf night.
It is a mental prowl.
She chants, she smokes, she burns the enchanted grasses.
She sits howling at the empty sky and her empty lair.
Her head is high and proud
Not letting in the lone wolves of the plains
or the ones with all energies spent.
She seeks her equal.
One who is howling at the same empty sky with the same
empty lair.
She howls till her throat is dry.
But her energies never end
She awaits the full moon.
She will wait for her Man-wolf.
They will do the dance of eternity.
The dance of eternal youth and fulfillment.
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