The Werewolf
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| Image Courtesy: Google |
Under the
moon’s gleaming face.
He hid himself
not, though,
Instead came
out in the moonlight.
The
signifier of unknown terror,
Fierce
and virile,
His chest
rising and falling like a drum,
Belly
flat like drum,
Eyes made
of amber and ruby serum.
His life
once was human,
Then his
blood took offence with nature,
In the
wild it ran freely,
And his
body took its turn surely,
Fangs,
fur and his head too,
Grew into
a wolf’s.
A song
rose from his heart, at times,
In
blood’s significant rhythm,
And there
was in his eyes,
A gleam
and a shadow.
The gleam
was love,
The
shadow was a woman.
Her hairs
floated in the night air,
Penetrating
the chill of solemn despair.
The
werewolf howled;
Jumped in
front of her.
He
neither touched her,
Nor his
fangs tore her skin.
His eyes
gleamed more,
Shading the
full moon in the cold.
She
looked at him in the eyes.
Her eyes
too shared the golden gleam,
And he
growled again,
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| Image Courtesy: Google |
“I am a
werewolf, you must run away,
Or your
life’s road
Will take
the hell’s way.
I beseech
you.”
“I know
you and you know me.
My
heart’s strings sing for you in glee.
I am
yours, give me hell,
If that
price could buy peace for me.”
The
woman’s words rang in the air,
With the
blinking stars’ above,
And the
fate so near.
The
werewolf moved closer,
His arms
bound around her hip.
In a
tragic love’s final desire,
He kissed
her on her lips,
And his
fangs tore into her neck,
With the
heat of her blood in his mouth,
And the
shiver of her flesh in his arms,
He howled
at the moon,
The cruel
observer in the heavens.
Deathless
the night witnessed,
Hopeless
the heavens observed,
The
deathless werewolf groaning in pain,
And the
stars of his tears-
Glowing in
hell.
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