The Owl Called My Name

I heard the owl call my name, soaring through the dark

Rustled feathers in its wake, fade like dying sparks

Sun sat behind the hills of the blue green peaks

Gold crescent’s final thought, night borne from the east

All the stars fade to black as clouds veiled their view

Grasses turned pearl white, as nighttime froze the dew

My move toward the place, of the owl’s call

Was only for a chosen few, and never for the all

I sat alone in the dark awaiting light’s return

Stepped into its brightness, others never learned