The cry of the lone wolf travels through the evergreen valley
Life is lonely
He walks solemnly through the mist of memories, never to return
Life is unforgiving
The wolf makes himself a den, not knowing what for
Life is unpredictable
The flurries drift through skeletal branches as he huddles for warmth against the dead leaves of fall
Life is hard
The old wolf ponders of his past and future
Life is unimaginable
Life is a lonely cry, a lost memory, a crunchy den.
Life is the flurries that drift through the unknown realms of the future.
For we are the wolf, and the wolf is life.
