Wolves

True to themselves
True to their soul
Instinctive behaviour
They know their role
Conjuring spirit
Their Magical way
Cogs on the wheel of life
Born of the day

The wilderness wild ones
Freely they roam
They eerily howl
Clearly their home
Unlike man unkind
They are of the flow
The sum and substance
Which is why they grow

Beyond their size
Into packs schooled they be
They run with the wind at their backs
They are free
Essential beings
Whose undying care
Is to follow their noses
And so be aware

Mindful and genuine
In all they do
Well-grounded and physical
All their life through
They are the life’s blood
At the edge of the light
Assessing whats wrong
And assessing whats right

Inseparable beings
Essential to all
Familial patterning
They are the call
Of fortuitous spirits
Whose state of mind
Is at critical mass
As the stories unwind

A complete connectness
Bearing much fruit
A complete understanding
Kinship at the root
A common interest
A position of power
When they follow the thread
Heading out on the hour

They each have a bearing
On what they should do
They each know their place
Scaled up and true
Mutual dependence
Its all give and take
Geared up for battle
And always awake

To every possibility
Hostile and adverse
To hunters with guns
For nothing is worse
Every nuance thats out there
Discordant and wrong
Indicative really of the wolves song

Persistent unfailing
Their rhythm all feel
The treadmill of yearning
It is very real
Faithful each parable that does unfold
Presenting a picture
Really of old

They are a divergence
A contrariety
Unique and peerless
Able to be
Lost in the shadows
Primordial they
Have great adaptation
Symbiotic they pay

Attention to detail
Fine-tuned on form
They meet any challenge head on
And no storm
Will ever deter them
Blizzard or rain
They run in deep snow
Again and again

They form their brigade
Well-matched and drawn
They apex predators
True dukes of dawn
Prodigious and ready
With breathtaking speed
Can take out their quarry
And always succeed

Unrivalled hunters
Top-knotch with style
They will chase down a victim
With unparalleled guile
They look for the weakest
Thats what they do
So much cohesion
Their union true

They all harmonize in what they do
Run to a fixed order
Their hierarchy true
Decorous well-bred
They prioritize
Each has their position
And never surmise

A force to be reckoned withb
Thats what they are
All-round performers
Each follows their star
Musketeers in their oneness
Undivided they be
Rarely deserted
Or solitary

From angels to devils
In certain mens eyes
The Meat trade
Sees cattle and sheep
As their prize
Hook up with sadists
The dark hunting tribe
Assassins of spirit
Who ambush and hide

Who leave their vile traps
As a consequence some
Are broken and torn
For the skin they were born
To wear it as fashion
The backlash of scum
The hags and the bags
Flagging up that their numb

To the ways of the world
The creators of pain
Worn out and exhausted
Needing to gain
Anothers skin ending a life
Feeble and barren
And stricken with strife

About Rex Tyler

I love animals. I enjoy writing poetry and delivering speeches.I like to mentor people who need help in preparing speeches and evaluations.I enjoy travel although it is much harder for me these days.I so enjoyed the Andes Mountains and Volcanoes and the Quichua people who live and thrive there.I have lots of friends around the world.
This entry was posted in Abandonment, activism, Hunting and Poaching ( includes canned hunts), Wolves. Bookmark the permalink.

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