The Lone Wolf

In a pack of wolves, the alpha walks at the end. He wanders the wild, crossing every stream, feeling the way through the darkness in order for his beloved pack to remain as one. This is the core intent of those who feel like an outcast—only the compassion is acted out from a distance. If the alpha decides to depart from the group, the pack will disregard him as their keeper. The sound of every howl is the order of nature playing itself out in life—this we must accept. However, any tempo to be separated from one’s own revivification is one we must not. There is a borderline to the instinctual nature. A single choice made that does not animate the human heart is one that is left in the reigns of fear. We must not confuse fear with instinct. The wilderness on every occasion will fade in the former.

Walking the end is the only way to birth the freedom of beginning. Pure gifts must grow in darkness, and with this night comes considerable separation. One must become fluent in the poetry and wander worlds to discover the secrets that belong to them. Any soul disregarded, condemned, or misunderstood can understand the truth of existence deeper than what is perceived.

Walk at the end and walk tall. Run from the numbness that settles on the heart. Run from the comparison that picks at the bone. Run from passion that doesn’t burn itself whole. Run from anything that doesn’t make the lingering air easier to breathe in. Bite the grip of every dream, walk tall, and let no one who hasn’t made a dance floor out of roamed land try to tame the wild one within.

The lone wolf in the eyes of evening is therefore never lonely. He is accompanied by his heart and the faith that works as his power. The body must run, the heart must not. Compassion’s rhythm is a master of on and off. A continuous movement that finds comfort in the dark unseen. The lone wolf then realizes that attributes of overcoming need to develop in order for the healer to carry the medicine home.