Poems
The Wolf Fenris
Deep in a hidden cavern,
where the vault drips stalactite-stone water
the black wolf waits.
In the stagnant air,
the only light glows from a few sputtering torches.
The bloody heap of matted fur
lies panting on the floor.
Metal grinds against stone
as his muscles creak against their chains.
His eyes roll in his hairy head
from the pain of the massive,
glittering sword
wedging open his great maw.
Saliva drips from his razor-sharp teeth.
At the end of the world, he will splinter his chains.
The cave is the core of every man,
where the knowledge lurks
that the day of death approaches.
The wolf waits.
Deep in a hidden cavern,
where the vault drips stalactite-stone water
the black wolf waits.
In the stagnant air,
the only light glows from a few sputtering torches.
The bloody heap of matted fur
lies panting on the floor.
Metal grinds against stone
as his muscles creak against their chains.
His eyes roll in his hairy head
from the pain of the massive,
glittering sword
wedging open his great maw.
Saliva drips from his razor-sharp teeth.
At the end of the world, he will splinter his chains.
The cave is the core of every man,
where the knowledge lurks
that the day of death approaches.
The wolf waits.