The Wolf

A wolf is howling in my soul
Eager to be loosed
He claws and gnarls to be let out
Frantic…
Frenetic…
To fight towards the scent
Of danger

That which is in his veins, coursing through him
Is primal and dangerous itself
Propelling him towards what is red
And hot
And alive

He recoils to hear the shovel clang
The dirt is thrown
And subdues his coursing vessels
Buried beneath the layer of calm

But only for a time