Bright-eyed young gaze at stars, wonder and reach
For the heavens, hoping pride and glory they'll reave
Sometimes, however sad, elders simply must teach
Hopes and dreams can be lies that the young believe

Unblooded young one, barely a man, this youth, boy
Inexperienced, foolish, pride poisoned his mind
He saw a wolf kill by throat, and developed a ploy
'Guard my throat', he thought, 'and her head's mine'

Too young is he, many lessons he has yet to learn
Too stubborn to hear, courage too loud to doubt
His fledgling strength, with towering pride unearned
Unaware of the wolf's history, how many she'd rout

'Guard my throat', he thought, too confident, brave
'and she's mine', he thought, chest-pounding with glee
When he answered her howl, he approached his grave
Too late did he learn, bleeding, too blooded to flee

Though she kills by throat, she's capable of more
Mercy's grace withdrawn, replaced by feral scorn
His heart, liver, hamstring, life and pride she tore
Boastful jeers silenced by flaming roar, that morn

The young know not history, stories centuries old
She kills by throat not from fear, nor fragility, but joy
Though she slept, slumbered, flames never went cold
Fear those seasoned wolves, show respect, little boy

'Let sleeping wolves lie', wisdom he failed to heed
His blood soaked the earth, leaving a lesson behind
Never assume favored strategies are chosen by need
Sometimes hopeless, painless death, is a gift most kind

Learn now 'loving mirthful joy does not make one weak,'
Lest he incite humility's wrath, shame delivered once again
Next 'to underestimate invites death,' young pipsqueak
Challenge wolves only once you've left your playpen

Penned by my hand on the 15th of Mayan, in the year 976 AF.