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The Hunt
The moon rises high, the wind fights on,
Carrying the sound of promised dreams,
Desires. The call of the wild; it comes,
The hunt to move fire and earth,
Water, wind and void. It comes.
The howl comes. It caresses the wind.
It is the embodiment of primeval youth.
It beckons, it calls; who will dare go forth
To join the pack, join the hunt,
Feel their thirst for blood?
It consumes, it overwhelms - the thirst for blood.
The hunt-
The hunt is all that matters.
The wolf must hunt what the wolf must have.
What the wolf must have-
Blood.
The blood of life.
A howl to pierce the heavens
Escapes the wolf's throat.
The wolf runs,
Runs through its forest in search of prey.
It catches the prey's scent.
It sees the prey;
Seize the prey.
It flees the prey.
The prey is man.
Infinitely more deadly
And with narrower purpose.
The wolf howls its farewell
To the moonlit world,
And slips into sleep.
Quiet, bloodless sleep.