There is a wolf on my hearth.

He lays, slow and lazy, in the fire's heat.

Amber eyes, alight with the dance of flames, regard me.

I have let the wild into my house,
Into my heart.

In the hour of his rest, I recall the day:

We ran,
We howled.
We laughed together in wolfish fashion
For the sheer joy of being alive.

He clawed away my shell of propriety,
Seized my foolish notions of time,
Appointments,
Wealth,
Work,
In ivory fangs,
And crushed them.

He has taken my veneer of civilization
and flung it, tattered, to the winds.

He has shown me what it means to truly live.

"Come - join me!" He calls.

But to live his life, I must give him mine.

"I am Wolf!" He warns.
"If you let me, I will devour you."

In the quiet of crackling flames
The eyes of a predator watch me.

Unmoving, curled in the warmth of my fire,
He still stalks me.

There is a wolf on my hearth.

If I let him stay, his wild heart will consume me.

Shall I offer him my throat?