The Dance

A philosophy of song once relayed to me in a moment of drunken sincerity.

Wolf songs fly across the night
and men give up their souls to the wind.
Fires flicker, the red glowing wick
burns, and together
fire, man and wolf
dance to the songs of old;
Songs that passion driven course through our viens,
written in stone hollows
to the pounding beat of the sea.
They are the Blood Songs.
They have always been
and will always be.
Time has no hold over them.