Another poem that struck me.
The Fox and the Red Death
Carrion for the crows, a battle done darkly
Boys longing to be men were cut down sharply
The Fox with his red pelt, thunder in hand,
is a wandering curse, a Pyrrhic victory roaming the land
The Great Wolf bays at crows who prey lightly
A man half dead with foot in grave, seeking rapture
The Fox, in death-seeking salvation, fought bravely
Though his blood and birthright disallow his departure
AOI
Red seeks red, a fox-chasing death, knower of malice and hate
The blood of the Old Gods it thirstily stalks, a Hunger it can’t sate
The Fox does run from the Red Death, seeking a better death from which to die
Which one he deserves, I can not say nor to you will I lie
The Red Death distinguishes not the Fox or a hound, or from good and evil men
A force of chaos, Hunger manifest, that lashes out at the fabric of space
Madness consuming, a darkness looming, a consumption, a total mind-bend
It is meant for the Fox alone, but it is something he will not face
illuminatus.blog 
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