Wolves of the World

Wolves of the World

Cunning teeth feast
frenzied ownership of flesh and bone
lapping life without gratitude
scrapping for scraps
to bare fearful fangs
for dominance which is not debatable
without being bitten by confrontation

Wolves will not only snarl
at their own, packed
similar to a can of sardines
on a patch of grass pinned by boundaries,
in the land of the free

Where minds and time divided
the checkerboard cracks
in the Earth's crust
like a dried up lake bed,
that awaits the day it rains
and the land will become one

Will they find serenity
in a mountain vision
gazing at a sky scraper sky line
or the tranquility of an orchard grove
where vehicles are lined
on uni-lateral roads
barking like angered coyotes

Beautiful fluffy pure white clouds
float over the wolves dens
mirrored in glass, seventy stories high
pollution and progress
nipping at the heels
of nature's balance

A multitude of horizons
may never 'run' together
too many perspectives
howling at the moon
from hungry teeth's need
the meek will be victims
of another's survival or greed
marking their boundaries
the Wolves of the World