WOLVES’ PEEK

In the left forehead fire beats.
An eternal stranger in the flame is asleep.
At halfway I disappear:
They sky cannot throw me down
Only if I take shape of smoke.
It is a mad horse, unloved by all.

The wild one takes a wilder one for a king.
Paths crumble beneath the left side
When a teeming shadow covers them.
The fire is wild, the skull hardheaded.
Poor like a wolf,
Who can I curb?
Whose head can I cover with a pearl?
The Shine stands up straight like a Mountain.
Everything it has crowned now is moaning on my back.
I howl from the Pearl Peek,
A hungry wolf on top of a carcass-made mountain.
Under the sceptre, to the ground
The Mountain crashes down.