The afternoon sun was blood red
In its ascent over the valley
His senses taut as a bowstring
Sinew and muscle cording
From the hatred that stretched across
Centuries over
As intimately as he felt
The love of his mother
There was nothing direct that would tell of a threat
No sound on the ground and no scent on the wind
The warning was deeper
Straight from his inner sphere
Knowing what others had found
The call of the wild was an inherent longing
That spoke like the whisper of an unknown voice
Beguiled and beckoned, freeing the pa**ion
Breathing deeply, eyes unblinking he steeled
Himself for the chase
The red and silver chariot
Scythed through the valley
His left hand dropped to his side
Urged his conscience to fly
The startled metal horse ran at his heels
Primal scream of elation beckons the k**
Pure solace of freedom, adrenalin thrill