Published: 22 May 2018 › Updated: 22 May 2018
Wolf
Moon greyed upon the huntress amongst curtain mist.
Skin draped skin that dead hairs the hollow of winter searching for flesh to frost.
Lost twigs blacken hare and flicker scare to the void shadows inside a nights rustle.
Thine hunter is under stone swirled with leafy incense of lust and scars of sacred devotion.
Humanities mortar shall amalgamate, with heavens pestle, life unto dust.
Thus the soul turn to a pelt, attaching warmth to eons of love reconstituted.
-M
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