Heavens hounds bray me back
to praise and praying.
Though their horrific howls are heard,
by some as, “Death! Doom!”,
I decipher other meanings.
As in the Tarots Tower,
the cataclysmic crumbling
is camouflage for opportunity
and behind the Reapers Robe
is the soft smile of God,
His scythe but a comforting compass,
pointing my soul
to a boundless beginning,
a borderless world,
ripe for exploration,
wonder and revelation.
So the Hounds howl offers
joy and redemption.