This is not real…
Each day we surround ourselves
Objects from nature transformed
Reality is not disappointments, endless expectations
Yet this is what it has grown to be…
That distant voice that calls to you inside
Reaching for it… we become lost.
Our sacrifices are not of natural
We do not resist the easement
Much given to us… forgetful.
This life, this is what’s real.
Cold dewy morning wakes you
Bark and forage cover has caved
Starving without successful hunts
Wild berries and acorns all scavenged
You must move for more subsidence
Traveling for some days, a river is found
Struggling to shape a sharp edge spear
Hours crafting, then to seize a fish
Countless times after managing to capture
Preserving half for a meal, next day
Sitting close to the river upon cobbles
You hear leaves twisting and branches moved
Holding still, observing the woods line
A deep vocalized howl sounds throughout
No longer alone, you shiver spear in hand
An echo of several others rush closer
When the black wolf reveals himself
Teeth bared, he shows dominance
Fixed stare upon you, he steps closer
You prepare to defend until defeat
The pack arrives bursting from the brush
The black wolf turns and snarls at them
His fight is here, this is his kill
Lunging towards you with brute strength
You jolt the spear for the chest
Piercing his coat, teeth lodge into your flesh
Fierce growls overpower his agony
The black wolf has victimized another
Staggering over you, he bellows into the night air
This is real.
This is the unbearable truth.
Thoughts Untold Written 