Post by Tuk on Jan 31, 2007 0:18:18 GMT -5
I walk this land I know,
Lost to all realization
As the tears of watching clouds
Fall upon the stone.
My dreams are dashed against the breeze
Behind ineffectual footsteps,
Prevalent for all to see
While trapped in the torment of concealment.
Along the beaten path
Lay the remains of a vanquished squirrel
Fragmented with decay –
Long forgotten memories
Of the days in which I sang...
Lost to all realization
As the tears of watching clouds
Fall upon the stone.
My dreams are dashed against the breeze
Behind ineffectual footsteps,
Prevalent for all to see
While trapped in the torment of concealment.
Along the beaten path
Lay the remains of a vanquished squirrel
Fragmented with decay –
Long forgotten memories
Of the days in which I sang...
Large paws reached out beneath a smoky black frame, swinging in endless revolutions over the earth. His steps padded soundlessly against the earthen floor, twining about the mystery of the land as his limbs carried him relentlessly forward. Silence surrounded his figure as he moved like a shadow between the ancient trunks of trees that observed him with calm attention. He was a mystery, an enigma that attached itself to this land and brought a blanket of mourning darkness to settle gently over the earth. The pulse of his blood interrupted the usual sway and flow of the life about him, discordant in the presence of nature. Bird’s halted their song as he passed, flitting teasingly from branch to branch to escape from his looming shadow that sought to devour the earth. The leaves of the trees above rustled above in slight wariness, whispering repeatedly in anxiety over his presence. Nature seemed to balk at his presence, not knowing what exactly to make of his anonymous presence. Mammals fled from the quiet pad of his hardened paws as he trotted forward, the forest grasses all gossiping in what seemed to be unnoticeable whispers as to why he might currently be treading through these forest paths.
He was both oblivious and observant of all that was around him. The ebb and flow of the nature around him passed like a continuous electric current through his body and soul, but his lurid, yellow eyes continued their blank stare. Mystery was emanated from his figure, his silence leaving holes that other’s words must fill. No one really knew him. Maybe he did not even know himself. He did not particularly care at the present time for his focus was locked on a certain target. Even though he was not scanning the territory as some dutiful wolf might who first entered a new land, he knew this terra. He knew this land just as he knew the game he hunted and the seasons that passed with ceaseless consistency. He did not need to be aware of the brilliant green leaves that trembled above him or the rich soil that made a comfortable carpet for his paws. He could feel the tide of nature flowing through him and it relayed to him the story he needed to know. The hurried, hushed tones of the swaying leaves and stalks of grass told him that there were secrets here to be kept from him, secrets that he must embrace just as he had embraced his own feral soul. The scents informed him of the passage of much large game as odors both fresh and ancient fled to his sensitive nares. Ears swiveled atop his skull, reading the fear in the nature around him that followed his silver-tinged body like some sort of affliction was forever pinned to his lean sides. He could hear the rushed scurrying of rodents that fled moments before he passed; the subdued bird song that rang forlornly through the air in response to his noiseless exodus of life. The world whispered stories to him, told him of the misfortunes and glorious victories that nature had endured, all contributing to this current dance of nature. It was as if there were patterns scrawled visibly across the earth’s surface, bending here and there to make room for death and rebirth. All contributed to one monotonous circle that was never-ending and perhaps even pointless if one entertained such thoughts with great intensity for too long. He did not fight what he saw though; Tuk only melded into that pattern of life as his steps seamlessly danced his entrance. He included himself as a part of that unchangeable monotony of life and spun his own story upon the tapestry of time.
Piercing, dangerous eyes blinked as a cold wind rushed inquiringly between the corridors of the trees. Hunger gnawed briefly at his stomach, but he refused to offer it notice. The hunger kept him sharp and alert. His ribs were just visible beneath the thick wool of his coat, jutting out to hint at the lack of concern for his welfare. Who knew, perhaps this wolf even nearly starved himself not out of necessity, but out of desire to feel the sharp pangs of hunger that kicked at the belly and kept his senses keen. Perhaps he did not even know, driven solely by the instincts that drew him onward and into the new pattern of this place. He allowed himself to be ruled by his calculating mind, lacking concern for his welfare except when concerning the agility of his leap and the swift gnash of his teeth should any intruder dare to confront his vaunted figure. Nature had made him strong. He only knew kill or be killed; there was little room for compassion. Somewhere within his troubled heart was the immense capacity for love, but for now he did not concern himself with a desire for companionship that all wolves inherently longed for. Like a whisper of wind, his shadow drew over the land until all was encompassed by the vast mystery he represented.
His prints left a ripple in the pattern of the world, altering its constantly shifting qualities until he had become an integrated part of this land. Tumulosus, the mountain. The title was almost fitting, hinting somehow of tumult and anguish, indicating a deep and hidden hatred that was nestled within the heart of the mountain that slumbered with such discord. Tumulosus – the place he now ruled as alpha by unspoken command. Without words, his mere presence caused the world to cower at the ambiguity of his puzzle, unable to attach definable attributes that might make it more comfortable with his existence. The world feared what it did not know. The world feared him. Perhaps that was partly why it now bowed before him, opening the door through which he so tread with an air of modest mystery. Perhaps that was why he could now call himself alpha of this terrain, with the consent of those who held more power than him. He was not stupid; he would not fight a battle he knew he could not win, nor would he go against unspoken tradition and take what could not be taken. He did not own this land, merely had adapted it as his home.
He paused, paws coming to a halt to feel the power throbbing beneath the soil. The gnarled arms of a tortured tree reached down almost to the floor, creating a sort of cage in which he stood. His hooded eyes peered into the distance as if seeking some answer that could not be found. Ears eventually came forward atop his head as his noble skull lifted in a small display of what might be considered confidence or even honor. There at last was a sign of emotion that the world could grasp and define that evaded his general mystery. Slowly, his head drew upwards, lids falling shut over the bright yellow lanterns of his eyes. With muzzle lifted to the sky, his lips parted in a perfect shape so that vocals could produce a haunting howl. The music of his voice fled over the earth, cementing his newfound position in this land. The howl drifting onwards, a haunting display of mournful melody and longing that reached to cover the entire region, touching the rock of the mountain and rousing the giant that lived within. All was silenced by his song, clinging with painful desperation to his notes as they faded gently once more into silence.
Who can see through the depths of my mind
That hides behind the wall of an easy lie?
And who holds the bravery
To stand up with arms open to the furor within?
Even if such a refuge did exist,
My jealous heart would never allow.
So I turn in this cage of mine,
Self-made in the dark of desire,
Knowing that I have gone
Where no one else can follow.
That hides behind the wall of an easy lie?
And who holds the bravery
To stand up with arms open to the furor within?
Even if such a refuge did exist,
My jealous heart would never allow.
So I turn in this cage of mine,
Self-made in the dark of desire,
Knowing that I have gone
Where no one else can follow.
ooc - I thought I would just stipulate that Tuk is making a claim.
He's not big on words so that's why he didn't say anything aloud.
His howl was basically his way of claiming of the terra.
Note: Everything is copyright to me. Poem is mine and mine alone. Please don't steal.
