The Song Of Longing Poem by Eric Cockrell

i am the tiller of unplowed fields,
i am the owl waiting for night.
i am the male wolf,
panting in the starlight,
following the scent that maddens.
i am the hunter with sharp edged spear,
i am the storm that pillages the night.
i am the woodsman whose axe be ready,
i am the tom cat patrolling the slums.
i am the wind that blows out the candle,
i am the fire that consumes...
the smell of blood, the taste of wetness,
i am gunpowder stains on the trembling hand.
i am the web, and i am the lair.
i am the waves tugging at boundaries.
i am the window left open,
the fire untended.
i am snow covering the grave.
i am the night, erect and hungry.
i am the dawn, waiting on the unmade bed.
i am the whistle of the faraway train....
wild horses roaming the prairies.
i am hard whiskey, and i am warm milk.
the nipple hardened by desire.
i am footprints in the forbidden garden,
i am the song of longing!