05/02/2026
Wolf of the Ancestral Fire
In the quiet circle of the sacred land,
the wolf rises like an old command.
Its eyes hold dusk, its teeth hold light,
a guardian born from day and night.
Marked with the colors of earth and flame,
it carries no pride, no hunger for fame.
It walks with the breath of cedar and stone,
yet its spirit sings in a voice unknown.
Among Native dreams, the wolf still stands,
teaching the heart what the mind misunderstands.
It knows that strength is not always loud,
nor wisdom wrapped in a warrior’s shroud.
The red is courage, the black is soul,
the pale lines bind what time once stole.
Each shape upon its fur appears
like tribal memory through the years.
It calls to the moon, but not in despair—
it calls as a prayer cast into the air.
A song for the lost, the brave, the free,
for all who seek what they are meant to be.
O ancient wolf, fierce and wise,
with fire reflected in your eyes,
you run through silence, shadow, flame—
and leave the world more whole than it came.
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🎨 The art by Jay Stone