Above the clouds of Tunhill
High above the lands of Arangrad
Stands a figure shrouded
The Rains at his command

Pounds of steely muscle
Fur that sways
All shall tremble
Beneath his waves

Waves of might
Shows of power
Claws of steel so sharp
A hide nails dare not mark

There he stands
Still as night
Calmly though
The stars in fright

On his back
A banner of black
Made naught but tears
And a soaked blood bath

His eyes gleam strong
His gaze far reached
Along his brow
Furrows do reach

Fought hard battles
Turned many sour
Taught many to stand
And all to cower

Beneath his crown
Is all that matters
Nations far and wide
Forced to stagger

Feet of stumps
Roots do grow
Follows reach
Across the globe

Lands to him
Naught but strides
All shall come
Across his eyes

One is shadow
One is flesh
A metaphor
Never to rest

Vigorous gale
Lets none fail
A tattooed sight
For minds so frail

A silvered coat
Makes a mired mail
For none has scope
Fall beneath him - wail

How can you hope
To better yet
Come across one
With broader chest

One so mighty
Cares for all
Enemies of ours
Oh how they fall

Pride to be
One of ours
A mighty warrior
From our own house

The staggered foe
The blunted blade
All are similar
In certain ways

For how can they
Hope to last
Against sharpened stone
Built so fast

A force of nature
Belligerent foe
To the cosmos
Ones to show

Magnanimous hatred
Bitter so
Fought hard beneath
Sweltering tones

For ones creation
Is not wider known
A tremendous being
Moulded so

On fields of battle
Amidst the throng
Deep beneath
The waves that thrown

A king laid flat
A warrior flayed bare
A sorceress so
Shared malevolent stare

Powers of life magic thrown
Used angrily - outwards
Caused a reaction
None could have known

For too much life force
Causes all to grow
To enormous proportions
To then explode

But once or twice
Events conspire
That none could say
Gods would have aspired

For one such case
Where moments ago
Stood a young wolf
Unarmoured and blown

Now stood the force
That would become known
As the one above
The clouds we call home

A wolf still
If even close
But one to rival
The gods own prose

There he stood
Indenting the ground
With his new proportions
And staggering prowl

He gazed once forth
At bewildered witch
Then tore her apart
Aspire his wits

Then his great head lifted
Splattered with gore
To the lines of foe
Butchering his blood

And so he turned
With nothing but claw
Rendering steel
And oh so much more

On he went
With unholy vigour
Ripping and tearing
None saw it quicker

And once he was done
Drenched in the foe
His fur seeming to feast
On the battles below

The great wolf stood
And addressed his great nation
For beneath him stood
men from his station

He raised his proportions
And gathered himself
Rose to his height
And met all above shelf

With silvered tongue
He spoke for a time
And before him kneeled
Every single one in kind

For the wolves of his nation
Astonished you see
Now saw him as greater
Than any could be

Now as they knelt
Awaiting permission
The great wolf roared
all doubts deigned submission

And once he was done
And all had washed their blood
He spoke once more
But then only once

the words he spoke
Shall be etched in stone
Forever and always
To times unknown

Words of a leader
Words from the foe
Words that will follow us
To our graves and below


“I am the wolf
The one to be followed
I will be named king
And awash all of your sorrows

For i am a wolf
But now greater grown
And all that shall know me
Should name me this so

The mightiest among us
A powerful foe
To any before me
Who would seek hate to sow

A name i shall have
A name oft too much bitten
But for a ruler to lead
He must have his ambitions

Call me the wolf
A great king - A great man
Felled the foe
Saved our lands

For as my father
Named me as an heir
I shall be named
The Wolf King, of Zubair

I am the dreamer
Fantastical possibilities
and countless opportunity
constitute my reality

But now he's all grown up
and dreadfully practical
With nary a dollop
of anything whimsical.
I'm afraid the dreamer
has become quite practical

I am the pragmatist
Benign equity
and rising amenity
fabricate my reality

But he's wandering on a path of his own making,
never seeing a destination, pining for Mirkwood's treetops
and wishing for the carefree flow of the Brandywine
Who would have guessed ambition and obligation
would lead right back to the folly of childhood?

I am Zubair
Innumerable contradictions
and multifaceted reflections
make up my personality.