Fugue

Tucked in the gray mob, safe, sound and asleep. An eternity of time never marked. Dimly recalled eon of forest deep. When all else is still, the whispered voice, “Hark!” Restlessness dances between heart and mind, Throat clenches tightly as the yearning wells. Stolen window glance from my place in line, But nose to grindstone, now, duty compels. Yet yearnings boil blood in hypnotic tune, Quickening pulse drowns out electric hum. Compelling daydreams of the hunt and moon. Hands and feet become paws, the will to run. And then vivid magic, the sacred breath. Stealthy movement becomes my spirit guide. Sounds of the chase crowd out the looming death, Dizzy breathless clifftop, vista looms wide. Somewhere below lies the collar and yoke, Happy casualties of manifest urge. Shed for the moment, vanished as if smoke. Blessed exhaustion, the demons are purged. Back to the pack changed, it was never mine. Satisfaction behind secretive grin. There is no why if you cannot divine The asynchronous drumbeat from within.