Thoughts of a Dog

 I dwell in a kennel of wood and wire

A humble abode for a faithful hound

It stands in the garden by the fire

Where roses and lilies grow around

It is not spacious, nor very bright

But it shelters me from wind and rain

It is not splendid, nor very sight

But it comforts me from cold and pain

It is my home, though some may scorn

And call it a prison or a cage

It is my home, where I was born

And where I hope to spend my life.

But what is home, I often wonder

Is it a place, or a state of mind?

Is it a roof, or a feeling under?

Is it a refuge, or a tie that binds?

Some dogs have homes of brick and stone

With beds of silk and bowls of gold

Some dogs have homes of love and care

With hearts of love and tender souls.

Some dogs have no home at all

They roam the streets in search of food

Some dogs have no home at all

They wander the woods in solitude

But what is freedom, I often ponder

Is it a right, or a privilege?

Is it a gift, or a burden yonder?

Is it a joy, or a sacrilege?

Some dogs are free to run and play

They chase the birds and dig the earth

Some dogs are free to love and stay

They guard their masters and their hearth

Some dogs are not free at all

They wear the chains of fear and hate

Some dogs are not free at all

They bear the scars of fate and trouble

I dwell in a kennel of wood and wire

A humble abode for a faithful hound

It may not be much, but I don't desire

More than what I have already found

It is my home, and it is my freedom

It is my shelter, and it is my lute

It is my song, and it is my wisdom

It is my kennel, and it is my truth.

But what is truth, I often wonder

Is it a fact, or a perspective?

Is it a law, or a choice to render?

Is it a bond, or a directive?

Some dogs have truths of black and white

With rules of right and wrong to follow

Some dogs have truths of shade and light

With paths of grace and peace to hollow

Some dogs have no truth at all

They live in doubt and confusion

Some dogs have no truth at all

They are in fancies of their mind.

I dwell in a kennel of wood and wire

A humble abode for a faithful hound

It may not be much, but I aspire

To find the truth that makes me sound

It is my truth, and it is my kennel

It is my guide, and it is my friend

It is my hope, and it is my channel

It is my kennel, and it is my world.