I Am A Real Werewolf

Thoughts (A Poem)

Flying,
Fleeting,
These thoughts of mine,
Of what will come,
Or what has been,
Or what is now,
And what is now?
What is “me”?
Who am I?
What is this place,
I seem to know,
And yet,
It knows me not,
It sees me half-faced,
Half-existent,
And wholly lost,
Lost, but I know where I am,
Lost, but I know who I am,
Lost, but I know what I am,
And this place does not,
These people do not,
And all a whirl-wind of thought,
Idea, concept, and various randomness,
I see not far ahead,
For I am awake, and yet blind,
And so I walk,
Or I run,
Or I howl,
Or I sing,
In enjoyment or despair,
For this life I would not trade,
Or this breath I will not save,
I will not fall,
I will not stop,
I will not sit,
I will not lie:
That there is fear,
Of what lies ahead, or far behind,
But now are the days,
Now is the time,
For what I do not know,
But need not know,
To call myself to stand,
I need not wait,
I need not cry,
I need the strength of all my lives,
For what is good,
For what is loved,
For what we have,
For what we need,
And I will guide,
I will protect,
I will fight,
I will accept:
This debt I put upon me,
And the promises I made,
For the people of all skins,
For the measure of my days.