Wolf's Rain Fan Fiction ❯ [Daijobou desu ka?] ❯ Red moon ( Chapter 1 )
[ A - All Readers ]
By: Fuyumiko 
A poem of a wolf's pride and hope. Of paradise.
Anime/Manga: Wolf's Rain Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Psychological / Angst | Type: One Shot | Uploaded On: 05.22.2004 | Pages: 1 | Words: 290 | Visits: 777 | Status: Completed
A poem of a wolf's pride and hope. Of paradise.
Anime/Manga: Wolf's Rain Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Psychological / Angst | Type: One Shot | Uploaded On: 05.22.2004 | Pages: 1 | Words: 290 | Visits: 777 | Status: Completed
[Daijobou desu ka?]
By: Arashi, Fuyumiko
Written: May 22, 2004
*
The howl,
it is my requiem,
My solitude,
It is a long mournful cry of a lost tomorrow.
The moon is pale, obscurant,
immortal.
The light shines on sweet scented petals that are thought to be long lost.
Lost, the loneliness cuffs the heart.
Lost, in an illusion of human flesh,
flesh that cannot feel the freedom of wind in its fur,
the pure absolute kiss of the blue moon,
not even the softness of harmonic ground.
It is dead,
impassionate,
unwolf,
not of me.
I am weary,
I am longing,
I am eternal,
I am that one who knows.
Some where,
before the genuine caress of first rain,
before the first wind shifted through the trees,
It could be heard.
The long melancholy howl that should pierce the night for eternity,
Forever it would echo,
and upon the raindrops of lunar petals,
Paradise was sought.
The call,
The pull,
The hope,
The instinct.
The lead, to paradise,
to a freedom of bliss and final rest.
A place of bluer skies,
of soft grass.
Of the sweet scent of life.
A realm of no loneliness,
no hidden fears,
or worldly lies.
I will follow my path.
For the absolute infinity of my meaning if I must.
Even till the moon turned red.
I shall let my gravity pull me.
*
By: Arashi, Fuyumiko
Written: May 22, 2004
*
The howl,
it is my requiem,
My solitude,
It is a long mournful cry of a lost tomorrow.
The moon is pale, obscurant,
immortal.
The light shines on sweet scented petals that are thought to be long lost.
Lost, the loneliness cuffs the heart.
Lost, in an illusion of human flesh,
flesh that cannot feel the freedom of wind in its fur,
the pure absolute kiss of the blue moon,
not even the softness of harmonic ground.
It is dead,
impassionate,
unwolf,
not of me.
I am weary,
I am longing,
I am eternal,
I am that one who knows.
Some where,
before the genuine caress of first rain,
before the first wind shifted through the trees,
It could be heard.
The long melancholy howl that should pierce the night for eternity,
Forever it would echo,
and upon the raindrops of lunar petals,
Paradise was sought.
The call,
The pull,
The hope,
The instinct.
The lead, to paradise,
to a freedom of bliss and final rest.
A place of bluer skies,
of soft grass.
Of the sweet scent of life.
A realm of no loneliness,
no hidden fears,
or worldly lies.
I will follow my path.
For the absolute infinity of my meaning if I must.
Even till the moon turned red.
I shall let my gravity pull me.
*