Sheep Dog in the Moonlight

This is no photo opprotunity
No hope for change, storing
insanity in the poles where
either frigid or frying we flee
to find freedom.
Specific, shaven, clear of conscious
stolen, wooled.

The shepard gazes to bladed sky
The tides of mind say swaying;
even lost is a crowded field.

Of time here to waste,
all in favor forget to think.
The insider left to books knowing
no destination.
Back on the train without
conviction.

All's all right, one in the same
on the hunt to find
what's being seen.