2 November 2012
Through the darkness, I see no path, The moon's betrayal blinds my eyes, And grasping hands from forest trees, Tear my skin despite all my cries.
I flee on through a maze of trunks, Fearsome howling at my back, I trip and stumble at each turn, Heading further into the black.
Then something stops me in my tracks, More fearsome than a chasing beast, That stops my heart and both my legs - The howls at my back have ceased.
I freeze and turn and glance around, My beating heart about to burst, I comb the woods and strain my ears, For the wolf that the moon has cursed.
Nothing moves - not a sound is heard, The wolf has given up its chase, I thank the stars and those above, At last my heart can cease its race.
I do not run - instead, I walk, Daring not to make too much noise, Just in case the wolf still preys near, To finish what it most enjoys.
At last, I near the forest edge, Through all the trees, I see its end, With much relief, I rush on fourth, No longer here will I be penned.
Rustling leaves from far above, Pause my strides as the fear returns, As I stare up into the trees, Into a burning gaze that spurns.
Fur as black as the beast's own heart, A drooling maw of bloodied teeth, The final sight I ever see, As it drops and I fall beneath.
The Howling • Opuss № I