Shackled by weight to the rock on which he fell,
Grey Wolf fades and waits to pass.
Pack moved on to hunt -- he could not follow soon;
he struggles to stand no more.
As the moon rises, calls of Pack leave the earth,
sounding as from long ago.
Grey Wolf cries thunderously of chill and pain;
less than whispers reach the air.
Light comes to the sky, and darkness to Grey Wolf.
Free Passage; he hunts not now.
Not a whisper or quiver; barely a breath
as he becomes the mountain.
The moon returns to the sky, but without Pack.
Just he and the moon exist.
Grey Wolf tears the night and hills asunder;
with his silence, he fills all.
Time and thought are lost, but not he and the moon.
Lone, it climbs the sky again.
Apart from it, calls rise up, but they are new...
not Pack, but laden with hope.
Grey Wolf, discovered by Freshness, moves with life.
Freshness offers; he partakes.
Grey Wolf stands, calls at the moon, and joins the Fresh,
the lonely moon left behind.