The Wolf

Crouching in the underbrush Watching the deer as it runs Watch them as they drink from the inevitable pool Run along the trails of sadness Anger Jealousy He sees them grow old Be recycled Reborn They are oblivious to his action His awe His beauty His mane tussles in the breeze As the wind searched his soul For weakness For anarchy Some way it can frustrate him But the creature remains still Watching Feeling Knowing The deer have nothing he needs He his nothing that they do Yet he watches and feels Keeping them in the dark is the best way Let them figure out for themselves Let them know For this is why he birthed the filter Preventing the glass from shattering A protective layer if you will For his children must be safe And someday they will thank him.