A lone wolf
Howls at the moon.
Such a thing only lasts
As long as the night.

The wolf sped
Across the frozen tundra,
Hunting as it goes.
Till it met something strange…
Weird…
Unnatural…

The thing
Lay on the ground
As if it had
Never learned
To walk.

The thing moved.
It shrank back when
It saw the wolf,
As if the wolf
Did not belong
In this world.

The thing was Man.
The other
Of nature,
But not natural.
Destroying,
Undoing,
But not
Creating.

The wolf felt something

It had not felt
In the longest time.
Compassion.
Sympathy.
Pity?

The wolf
Caught a rabbit.
It shook it,
Breaking its neck.

The wolf

Brought the food
To the Man.
The Man did something
To it…
Sparking, Crackling…

Then it ate.

The Man
Warily watched
The wolf
As he ate.

He was told that
Wolves were…
Dangerous.
Savage.
Killers.

The wolf padded towards him
Hoping to be friends.
The Man scrabbled away,
The wolf only wanted to play,
The Man was too weak
Curled into a ball,
Waiting for the blows,

There were none.

Wolves were not killers,
But creators,
Opposites of Man.

The Man was not foolish
(Whatever else he might be)
He knew that his people were wrong.


He couldn’t wait to tell,
But he was…
Lost.
Lost.
LOST!

But no…
He wasn’t.
He had a companion.

Together,
With the wolf’s help,
He walked across the tundra.

Together with the wolf,
Hunting as they go,
They ran.
Singing the duet of the night.