The Call of the Wolf

The Call of the Wolf

The spirits of the restless undead
Wander hopelessly across the lands,
Searching for their lighted tunnel
Be it thickened forest, or desert sands.

Aimlessly traversing the sorrowed terrain,
On a path known only to they
Who have not gravitated to the heavens,
Who have not been shown the way.

Desperately looking for their beacon of hope
Followed by the wolves of night,
Begging for a lone salvation
They pray to find the light.

The hounds of hell come calling
Feasting on the forgotten prey,
Unmercilessly they hunt them
In the lands of the eternal grey.

For it’s said when the wandering soul
Finally can wander no more,
The minions from the Earth’s depths
Open up the hellish door.

With flames of fire reaching out
They capture the wandering soul,
Taking them to repent their sins
Never again will they be whole.

As the fiery gate closes shut
They take the walk down the daunted hall,
And in the lands of the eternal grey
You can hear the wolves call

A brutal howl, a horrid scream
To a moon that will forever glow,
It’s a signal to the others
That another wanderer has gone below.