The Lion is noble, all gold mane, bright sun.
The Wolf? Deadly, bitter, poison pearl teeth.
The Lion roars of coming wars not yet won.
The Wolf weeps always, bright fangs sheathed.
Neither wants this fight, to tear apart
brotherhood at the cost of clashing hearts
yet still canines and claws draw crimson
and dawn breaks over the beasts’ dominion.
I watch from the cliff side, Wolf and Lion
growling and howling like old fevered rivals
one with Apollo’s quiver, one belted Orion,
I weep maudlin tears at their suicide trial.
When angels become monsters, beasts of adamant
with berserk battle prowess and fury blood-lust
then the time draws near for the Devil’s ascent
and ruin blooms violet with the fall of the just.