The fainthearted hold a belief in isolation ;for to them that’s all there’s to dare

In contrast, it’s our blazing in packs that’s made us indomitable,

Half Spirits; Sans Spirits and Two or more spirits in any of us, we march with enviable flair

It’s the wrath forged by sight of our bloodshot eyes, adorably contrasted with our heavenly white fur, that sounds horns to all without a swash of our insatiable anger

Both by the living and not; In both faith and courage, all said above is modestly described fair

We’ve traversed the beauties of Eurasia and flourished in the woods of Tasmania with vigor

We’ve had far from fair fights with the pseudo – kings of the cold jungle

“Pseudo”, because only we remain they that are howl at the moon

The rumors in praise, the disgust in envy and the fright of our pact to keep the ‘we’, have  forever been a mumble

If only we could keep the facade and avoid the loon

I’ve heard humans say, though I can’t bet my life on their word, that, ‘the strength in a group is always with the humble’

In hindsight, with me, that should have stuck

Like a chain that’s always as strong as its weakest link

That truth holds for we Maned and Tasmanian packs

Our feeble brothers, the famed circus hounds stuck with being humble

It aint a lost fight if you its you still with a bag full of stacks

Now I lie wounded in my own blood slime with all my dreams out in a bubble

A non wished bachelor who once traversed ferociously across them terrains that knew my might

I stare at the blurry sky for the sight of the moon for me to turn fairy, then I plead to her that just for this moment, to her I may as well make one last howl; but she too seems to have had plans tonight

We was once a pack of so many I poppa Ied, gracefully; gracefully that for inclusion of all I chose never to count; Look how ungracious life is that the only night I choose to count am all that remains

Look how ungracious life is, that the only night I choose to count am all that remains

We shared the loots, shared the howls, shared the trecks though now its evident none of that could keep us tight

I, for sure will be hunted down for trophy, a not so long in the time to come, and that’s the part that pains

But unlike my pack, I’ll shred my godly fur and chew my liver so the trophy hunter or poacher; my death won’t earn them no dime

It aint easy leading, even harder when it’s pack of Judases waiting for a moment of thought to call a blunder

We was just a family trying and mostly living a life happily;

I the Provost Marshall ya’ll the loyal pack regiment

It’s funny how I now sit me outta an abandoned cave and reminisce the hunts you made for big poppa

If foxes can cry, then we too deserve a awail if only for the release

Now, here’s your reality check; We all know I took that hunter’s shot, not for self but for big momma

I dont regret it though for regret is what kills greats only for them to be laid in earth, howled over and called forefathers

I’ll wait out the wounds to heal, both on body and soul; I’ll cryout the betrayal so loud it will scare you to the nethers

We may not meet again quite soon, though when we do, dear ones It sure will be in every breathe to make you forefathers

That’s not out of selfishness, just for your pathetic attempt of self worship and fairy tales of heroism

There certainly may never be miles of nice tales about me for the salient wind to spread;

Lone wolves need no deitism

I’ll wander the Tasmenia plains and valleys; and may even try the Kalahari as a dare, for we Legends never die

I will loom and haunt you in your surrealistic of dreams

I’ll be it that you feared and loathed yet deeply so wished you were

You will hope on the comfort of the lone star, yet not even its light will let you see your paws

I’ve come to accept am a lone wolf

Your mercy lies not upon my conscience but rather on my health and how fast I’ll soon use my claws

If I’d been human; right as hell, my first of names would be Adolf

Lovely pack we had; I loved you right; you chose to love me wrong

Our memories should preserve the understanding that loyalty that stands beyond royalty

I seek to help you understand the pact we’ve held for so strong for so long,

My intentions always pure; My methods at best will not to be credited morally

For we as wolves were the kind so priviledged to hold strong as packs

Always meant to watch each others’ backs

In there lies; my quest and life as new…as a LONE WOLF!


 Zimwe Creation 2017©


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