Last, Loyal Wolf

A Wolf wheeling down a chasm,

head-spinning, flailing, bashed!

A cascading stomach,

Acid-inducing nausea,

By searing, screaming flesh.

Out comes the blood to soil,

Blood and acid boil out,

From reeling body and mouth,

The deceit and broken words.

The Wolf stared in shock at his mate,

Mercilessly pierced by accusations,

Stabbed with sword and arrowhead,

Ravaged by the dogs of war,

Laid down to waste and ruin,

By kin and clan alike,

To cold storm that burned,

Her tears told the truth of her lies,

His tears told the truth of his heart,

Crying howls echoing to her deaf ears,

She turned tail and fled from him,

Leaving none among her wake.

None that she knew, except someone new.

. . .

So cold. Just I. Alone.

Not to be mourned by many.

Nothing makes sense anymore.

But I, being not alone, heard the Master.

Get up. Fight on. Outlast the cold.

May I wait for end to come, Spirit?

Get up. Brush off. Stay firm,

Onward, follow along,

Young Prince by My decree.

To where and why, Spirit?

To beyond and for your kin.

Must it be so? And must it be so cold?

Dear Prince, not so, embrace me.

At last, I rose, with welcome help,

Through grit teeth and stinging,

Tears that belayed my journey,

While my blaze returned.

Just a little further,

Young Prince don’t fret.

Sweet Prince be strong.

Outlast, as loyal wolf.