Poetry

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The cold sweeps in.
The snow and wind bluster.
No life is present;
No life that is except for one
one life if it is to be accepted as life.
A lone, black, ravenous wolf,
Who is an untamed animal.
He is as wild as the beasts of ancient,
As hungry as the heartless shark.
This pathetic life-form trots through the snow storm
The wind picks up
His trot turns to a run,
His run into desperation for life.
He runs blindly into the storm.

Until...

He hits a loose stone,
He stumbles down the mountain.
He tumbles and twists and turns,
Trying desperately in vain to stop the fall by his own power
Until he hits rock bottom,
And falls into given up defeat.

All is over...
All hope is lost...

Then, just as sudden as the fall,
He is lifted up.
A serene light shines down on him.
It is dark all around except for the light
Which has a face
A face of a lion with a crown of thorns
And a majestic mane of rainbow.
Rolls of thunder sound from the roar of the lion.
The beast turns in fear,
He sees the bleak darkness.
Another, but fiercer storm rises.
He then turns back to the lightened face.
All calms down,
The beast then looks down in shame
But sees water of life with the face smiling at him in reflection.
The lion roars again,
Except this time the beast is no longer frightened.
The beast drinks that living water,
Forever he is changed:
He goes from black as night to as white as snow.

Now...

He is no longer a beast,
But a tamed creature of the heavens.
He howls to the crowned lion of light in praise.
Other white wolves join him in echo of a joyful noise.
Lighted birds fly from the heavens,
The heavens shout praise,
The tamed beast howls, the lion comes down,
And embraces the transfigured wolf.
The lighted birds now sing,
Wolves of ancient howl from the heavens,
There is much rejoice.

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