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One day I saw a wolf

with pain in his eyes

though I knew not why.


He called me Sunshine

though I was just a star

wandering in the sky,

cutting through the night.


He called out to me

lone and new

in a world imbued

with things to lose.


I did not understand

the world he sees,


nor did he.


Nor did he.


We had to let the world be.


This lone wolf pulled away

from the sheep

but couldn’t sleep

if he should so much as eat


a little lamb.


You see,

so long had he been amongst the flock

that he had all but forgot

his claws and key.


I saw scars on his shoulders,

pain of another kind.

Wolves always have a mind

to seek out and find

their freedom.


A wolf dares to dream

to be something greater

than it seems.


He went searching for Sunshine−

looking for truths,

things he once knew,

places far to get to.


I watched him traverse

desert plains

and wash away blood stains.

I watched him climb

mountain tops,

never embracing a single stop.

I watched him swim

vast oceans,

bleeding out emotions.

He had grown to fear anger,

afraid of these red notions.


I greeted the lone wolf,

asked him what he was looking for.


“Myself,” he replied,

“I want to see what’s in store

for me.

What will I be?”


“Not a sheep,” Sunshine said,

wondering what had led

him to such a question.


Questions are delicious tensions.


“Say what you want to be,

and quite naturally,

you will be what you seek.

What we create

becomes our mate

and affects us down to the gates

of who we are, my dear wolf.”


“Sunshine, how do you know?

I’m going to keep going and going

and go and go−


“Until the snow laughs-

I mean falls” she herself laughed,

“I should think a kiss

in sprinkling flake halls

would be such a dream,

don’t you think?” she asked,


“I’ve never had it done to me,

no one loves a star

when there’s things to see

coming down from the sky−

each and everyone so unique

it makes me want to cry.

These humans I see

are like that−


The wolf heaved a sigh.


“Sunshine, you leave a sparkle

everywhere you go.”


“I know, but I wish I cast but a shadow,

as you do.”


“Why?” the wolf wondered

with great surprise.


“These people you watch,

they shine my light

but they also have the night

trailing behind them.

They have potential to fill,

unseen and unknown,

beautiful and wondrous

dying to be shown.

Their shadow follows

and shows what's known:

uncertainty. The Unknown.


What do you see, Wolfie?”


“I see them forget their hearts

for their tongues.


I see them forget to breathe

with their lungs.


I see them fail to see

lies with their own eyes.


I see them fail to be

and live their own lives.


They seek only the present

but cling to the past,

live in constant hesitance,

and fear what the future



They stay stuck

in the muck

unable to change their mind.


They never depart

lest the start

singe their fragile mind−


“How hard it must be

to be human,” Sunshine spoke.


“Yes, I think so,

but perhaps if they learned to go

and accept their form,

it’d be easier to know



“But few remember to ask.

Those that do, receive.”


“Indeed,” Wolfie growled

a laughing howl

to the sun.


“Come,” she whispered,
“Come with me for a time

and we shall make something sublime."


She had but a question.


"What should we call it?”


“Wolfshine,” he mused.


“Then you shall be my muse.

I will make something grand

for you

and only for you−

a wolf and a star,

I think we can go far,

just us two−

if we dare.”


“I thought stars don’t share their hearts.”


“We do,

I will give you a piece!

But it will come to an end

and you must find peace

with that,” she warned.


“I will give you something too,

something you never knew:

a kindness warmer

than your own warmth

to help you in that endless space.

I think it brings you great harm

to be up there so alone.”


And he did.


He was sweet,

sweeter than molasses−

sweeter than beats

of music drumming seeds

of love.


“I love it when you sing to me,

your voice of spring I could listen to

all day.

It’s soft and sweet – sounds like

a dash of potpourri, honey, and



He smiled his wolfish grin

having never known his soft spin

on words and hymns sung to win

the sun’s heart.


He would howl at her,

her harbinger of enamored

talks and tunes.


She would light his way

as he trailed along dunes

and trees and bumblebees

wondering what he was

growing to be.


Wolfie passed waterfalls

tired of falling,

but he smiled.

He passed cliffs

tired of ifs,

and he grinned all the while.


Amongst the whys

he grew wise.


The power of a name

is never the same

once said.


It slips into our beds,

soundless, pain-


and treads

into our souls

to make us bold-

makes concrete what lays deep in our folds,



never aging to old.


We are never the same

from whence it came.


They grew close

and learned much from each other-

so it goes with roses

and things unknown.


They dived deeper, so deep

into their hearts to keep

something beautiful alive.

But sadly, all things must die,

a stark starred melody of

life’s dark side.


“My dear Wolfie,

our time has come to an end–


“But, Sunshine, we can still be friends–


“No, my lovely wolf.

An end does not mean we ship to sea

as friends,” she cried,


“Take a piece of my heart

and I yours.

Then we are to part,

but never forget the force

of love

and light

and loneliness.”


“Where will you go?”


“To places unknown.

I must always be alone.

I would never dare bring another

to the darkness to suffer.

I am in love with things unseen,

searching for things to bring into being.”


“Sunshine, you don’t have to be alone.”


“But I do, for life must go on.

I am tied to the sweet nothings

that so quickly die.

I am born into the miseries

of their fleeting eyes

seeing life.”


“I don’t want you to go,”

Wolfie cried.


“If I don’t,

the wind won’t blow.

If I don’t,

I won’t see what I don’t know.

If I don’t,

the rain won’t shower rainbows.


My dear Wolfie, I must go,

but before I do,

I must give you

something you will pass along

to all wolves, never to be gone.

I hope in your heart there is no hate

from this forceful fate,

but it will be your ally.

May I?”


“Anything you give me is a gift,

pray, tell me, what is it?”


“You will always see others in red,

you will have different eyes and instead

see their burning heat

from their heart beats.

You will always be ahead

and witness the walking dead.


You will see the beauty of the color.

Brazen hearts shine boldly, brightly,

but sadness brings blues of duller

hues burning coldly, silently.


You will see others as they’re meant to be–

their chosen cages

or blissfully free.”


“And what are you, Sunshine?”


“Just wait and see,” she whispered.


He saw

and it scorched his eyes.

The sun beaten down

by freedom.


The pain to see her was too much to bear.

She seemed as though she didn’t care,

hurting him so with flames of woe.


The wolf turned to the night,

angry with his newfound sight.

Cursed with seeing in red,

it would be a long time till the dread



She had given him anger,

that which he feared,

and he was but a stranger

to its forceful power seared



The wildfire raged within

and the wolf fell to terrible sins.


Sunshine watched and wept,

but anger is the spark we need

to keep us sure and let us heed

silenced hearts and voices

begging to be heard.

It is the flame for drive,

spurred to action and so alive.


Even a wildfire is needed every now and then,

to help us purge demons deep within.


She had shaken him to his core

so he could see what was in store

for him.


A simple request, a hard task.


They broke their hearts,

cracked open

bleeding apart

to grow forth a fresh start-

to grow forth those strings of the heart.


They let their eyes weep,

glazed over

sunken deep

to go forth and see

life differently.


A changed perspective

breaking away

from the broken collective.   


He always saw in red,

but soon he saw instead

love and not anger.

They both blazed red.

Love is apart from the will,

something that couldn’t be helped,

that made the soul still

and slowly melt

until it is one

with the sun.


He took one last look

to see her clearly—

a book

of flaming pages

flying in the sky

writing everything down in sight.


She shines anger

unlike any other,

loves each and every brother,

livid with how they throw away life,

loving all despite their self-inflicted strife.


Wolfie turned to the night

and created his own pack.

He learned from the humans

and their bent backs.


He let the old and sick set the pace

while the others learned patience.


He taught respect

and what it begets.


He focused on questions

and easing tensions.


He led them to lead

their lives

and keep the fire burning alive

deep in their eyes.


Sunshine kept her sparkles,

always smiling

at the undying memories of



With each eclipse

he would miss

those lips


whims into the wind.


This lone wolf sang to the moon,

a shade of Sunshine

and gone soon,


Singing, “Me and You,

just us two,

was beautiful in lew

of the ending.”


The wolves followed suit,

howling at the crescent,

celestial remnants

 reflecting Sunshine

every night.


Never there

but always caring for a

lone wolf no longer new,

a love affair between

an unlikely two.


They grew close

and it drew to a close.




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