Wolf of the Moon -or- The Hunt
- By Khan


A shade of grey
Slips into the cold and snowy night
As the moon rises

The hunt is on
Shapes running across the plain
In blind instinct

One is called
From the instinct that rules her
To a place of power

Wolf of the Moon
Adressed by the Horned God
Lord of Wild

Hunt no longer
As your instinct bids you to do
But hunt as you wish

Awarness gleaming
In Mind newly awakened to logic
Walks away

She leads now
The hunt so long formed by instinct
With coldness

Touched by a God
To live eternally in legends
Free from Death

The Hunt rages on
Feared by many, calling to others
That your Mind is free