Last night I woke during the Hour of the Wolf,
The hours after midnight until the stars begin to fade,
When most people die; when most are born;
When sanity loses its foothold and nightmares come
Out of a thousand years of cloistered darkness,
Kept at bay by modern mind until the cry is finally heard….
The hours when the sleepless contemplate the dark….
Strong, ancient truths that call to each and all.
Do not mistake this time for insomnia…
Wake not because something is wrong, but when you hear
Darkness calling, sacred revelations, disturbing visions,
Waking dreams from deep within the well of mind.
Like a wolf, the naked instincts sense the haunting fear,
Draws back from surface motions into inner needs,
Slowly bleeds into realms that wait, unexplored.
If you are honest with yourself, you’ve known such hours.
Have you run away into prayer or books or found comfort
In a warm bath? Or have you sat alone in silent meditation…
Faced down the yellow eyes, collapsed exhausted at the
Threshold of the soul, reached deeply into the dark
Mysterious places where you would never walk in day…?
In such thin places, all answers are wrong.
All you know is useless… falls away,
Supplanted by that which cannot be named:
Shapeless forms, severed from their past….
Unutterable worlds waiting in the night, for the
Hour of the Wolf that will inevitably come
When you are least prepared to listen.
Go down into the dark and wait in silence.
Release the necessary need to howl and
Know the wisdom underneath.