Lone Wolf
Lone Wolf…
He is the irony unto his lonesome self
Thrust upon this world
A cub youngling
He absconds from family
In search of something else
The Lone Wolf…
A spirit found, a spirit lost
Travails path of storm and wind
Looking and seeking
The nomad hunter without friends
Loneliness the only cost
A Lone Wolf…
Forever bearing the intensity of heart
Burning into mind’s eye
Sardonic is his never knowing
Consequence of playing part
Lone Wolf…
Finding refuge within darkness…
From fast approaching storms
But, sanctuary from his own madness…
Found only in brashness and honor
Of the soul that roams
The Lone Wolf…
Like the undiscovered serpent of the sea…
The soaring eagle
Longs only to be free
But instinct his jailer
And hunger his need
A Lone wolf…
A vanishing vagrant into long drawn shadows…
Woodlands of a twilight sun
Pursuing fresh quarry scents
Unsullied mate she wolves natal young’s
Lone Wolf…
His lonesome irony abets in its return
As nights timber penumbras tumble forth…
A semblance of spectral sirs
Whelps of innocence from the night to the lunar lights…
Do not go unheard
Copyright © Michael Smith | Year Posted 2011
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