I watch him from my city window
Down in the alley, just below
He's dirty, barefoot, seems unkept
I wonder where he stays or if he has slept
He leans backwards
Steam billowing from his mouth into the chilled air
He calls out into the darkness but I don't hear despair
It's more a primal call, more innate
As if this is who he is, this is his fate
Not just a mad man howling at the moon
Instead with a freedom that seems in full bloom
It's an independence he consumes
Untamed, wild and free
A part of me envious at what I see
As he howls into the night
Not a care in this world, or who is in sight
I watch as people just pass him by
Acting as if they don't hear his primitive cry,
No one stopping, asking him why
Forgetting to see the human being behind his eye
I watch like he is calling his ancestors, his people, as he bellows into the sky
Exhaling the cage society has placed him in as he lies
Along the cold pavement or an alley way in the night
Without seeing the soul, his circumstance, his insight
He might not be what we assume
His perception may not be one of doom
But one of decision
Having a different vision
Unable to live in the shackles of a man made society
Or rules, ways of life, a non combative hierarchy
Of the lucky ones, who don't suffer mental challenges or addiction
Those who have money and have never faced eviction
Who haven't had to live a life around a mental superstition
Ignoring his reality, questioning why he chases his decision
While he just calls out into the night, but not in pain
Returning to nature, where he feels most sane
Possessing the caveman within
As he calls out into the wind
Like a wolf summoning home into the sky
A home he yearns for as the headlights pass him by.
No one pausing, viewing him only as a sad case
They call him a pity, a fall from grace
But I see a calm beauty in his embrace
Taking from life only what he needs
Wondering his thoughts or what he believes.
Not conforming or wanting to be saved
Living life on his terms, in a way I see brave
I will never know how he thinks, I cannot see life through his lens
I can only hear his howl and the beckoning it sends
I hear a celebration boom from his voice
Owning his lifestyle or his choice
I can only hope he gets whatever he craves soon
A call from his being, his howl like a tune
A bellow from deep to connect with the moon
