Trails of the wandering Wolf

If only times could change. That eternal wish, passed on through ages. If only things were different. A lost cause... A gamble on meagre wages. But what about hope...? The heart decries. What of love? That, which we hear, never dies... You see, knowing is a funny thing. You may belive in lies But seeing through those eyes The truth, you never realise... It is all out there. All the love, all the hate Just or without cause One's early the other a little late. Veins pumping green And vines, red wine... And the whole world's a circle Damned and Divine... In this mist of systems and sounds Comes a call, Stalling chaos and stilling the mind But fate's coy play around me Steals the dance once again...

The hunger for written words beckons me A look into the deep and soul A dramatic passion grips me A soundless screech in a great hall Twisting shades of vivid hues Maddening any sense within Wafts of scents of red and blue Circling the world within Fire lighting them wild sinews Restlessness driving the mind Look no further. The light renews All that's smoke, ashes or sand. No sun overhead, but all in the see As the wind clears, light shining through. Memories surrounded. Bleak, undying residues.

Scouring land and deep sea In search of a soul within Abrupt rocks and waves Washing off that elusive scent Caught a glimpse of her briefly Only to be lost again. Pining and tormenting this heart of mine Yearns ceaselessly to feel again. Cogs turning, Life is flowing Slipping away, but not soon enough. Come death my way, that gentle breeze... Or pulling grappling, See her, I must. Whether time stood still Or was whisked away from under me I still see her, reminiscing... What cruel games fate plays with me. I swing and hurl blows All seeming to land their mark But hitting air. As things begin to slow... I hear those whispers. Those Coy tantrums, Sweet things I loved to hear. I open my arms in expectation. Only to be tricked once again, by the air. Air that I feel I have drawn long enough. Enough as a slave to its vital touch. I but wait for that time When I would have finally drawn enough...