Nervously, he paces in the holding pen, trapped by locks and fences and the stifling smell of men.
Snow crunches "neath his restless paws, head wreathed in frosty breath: saved from mass-extinction, that last and final death.
Yet he is both Alpha and Omega...the first, perhaps the last...Might he sense within his wilding heart the persecutions of the past?
Pacing, yearning to run free, his pack beside him, too, waiting on the whim of man, waiting to run free, run true...Despairing in the arctic air, he lifts his massive head to howl. His pack joins in: a choir wrapped in night's black, brooding cowl.
...Comes then a magic moment as he wakens with a start, for a pen, no fence exists to quell his racing, hurtling heart!
Only wilderness abides and sweet scents of Caribou...leaping-up and running free, his pack beside him, too... Soon they find a sick, old bull and loose him from his pain: a re-enactment of the past, but he did not die in vain...Soon a den to dig and pups to feed...life lives upon the slain.
Yes, a re-enactment of the past: for you, the balance has been swung: Go with God, Oh, Great One, for you must not be last!
Written By: Judith L Hemphill
You All Come Back Now ! Ya Hear...
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