Last night I walked in Auvergne forests
In Fragments of my tortured dreams
I came upon  the demons in my soul
And faced them down and one by one
They dissappeared yet to return again I guess

Yet as I walked on in  darkened woods
I became aware of another sound more familiar
But  as yet  unclear its volume muffled by the canopy
Until suddenly in the clearing dawnlight
I heard it  once again clear and bright and I knew

It began imperceptably low in the  distance  out in the gloom
A half choked gutteral wail that paused briefly before it
Began again
A painful sound  that came on the light breeze
In a series of  rising  staccato notes that fluttered to a crescendo

Then fell in  cadenced descent, a pitiful  wail of grief 
Tortured cries unto the black heart of the night
And I pulled my coat around me then hurried forth
Towards home as the sound became revealed 
it was the unmistakeable  cry of a wounded wolf 
And it chilled the blood then cut through to the bone