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As it closes in they run, wolves. The fire won’t just burn It strips the earth in a fast paced run Are you fast? Swift? You can’t beat it to the mountain To the cool sheets that a wait you there, rain. The soothing feel of rain, Or the gnawing teeth of a wolf? Escape this churning world; a crevice in the mountain Until you feel that need, that burn. Again you’re running, light and swift. Your body slowly gives, no longer can you run. Is that your only option, to run? To dream of the harsh kiss of rain. But in this moment, you’re not swift The tearing, ripping wolf He’s at your side, handing you a different type of burn. It becomes a long forgotten thought, that mountain. An unnatural sun rises showing you a refuge, your mountain. You gather yourself, stagger…and run. It irritates you with its flame, the never forgotten burn. Hope prevails as it pours harder, sweet rain. Yet he stalks you still, always in your shadow; your friend, your wolf. Here you try to be yourself in a failing swiftness. If only you were that rabbit, swift. So far away it seems, those blackened mountains. Their numbers grow, they creep; those mangy wolves. You’re forced to try, to run That first light touch of a false promise to rain You can’t escape that permanent burn. A hand comes away red, with its own sweet burn Their eyes flutter and watch, always swift. You look again, only to see that slowly fading rain. Sitting in the distance mocking you, mountains You fall, your legs too weak to run. In your face he snarls, your wolf. Those wolf filled valleys beneath a promised mountain You tried to run, but you were never swift Within all the burning, you feel the rain.