The Wolf

Wolf, shadow of the forest,

you move where men dare not linger,

eyes burning with the fire of old banners,

breath rising like smoke from forgotten battles.

You are not only predator,

but a guardian;

the one who sees

what others cannot.

Your howl splits the mountain air,

reminding us that exile and belonging

are two faces of the same song.

In the old tales,

you walk beside the restless,

sniffing out ghosts in the dark,

yet you are also the shield,

the teeth that turn away

what would devour the living.

Wolf, you are not afraid of winter.

You carve paths through snow and silence,

showing that survival is a kind of worship,

that kinship is a fire against the endless night.

In your cry,

the wild answers back.

In your eyes,

the ancient oath remains.

Nothing is lost to the dark:

not courage, not kin,

not the wildness that still remembers us.