The Search For Paradise

As the white wolf runs through the night,
He sees a beautiful sight.
As he watches the white flowers bloom,
He swears he sees a red moon.

He smells a beautiful smell,
Coming from the flowers, he could tell.
He follows along the path,
Only to enter a human's wrath.

He looks to see the flowers gone,
And instead sees his own blood drawn.
As he lands on the hard ground,
He sees a man with a black hound.

"You're not going to Paradise," the man says.
The wolf looks at the man as he sways.
The animal attacks and a shot rings out,
While the wolf receives blood on his snout.

Now the wolf looks toward the hound,
Laying beside her master on the ground.
She looks his way and snarls,
Her eyes conveying her laurels.

The wolf has a bullet in his chest,
As he crawls away to the nearest crest.
"Leave him be," the hound muses,
"Tonight, he will die," she growls, clearly enthused.

The wolf knew he was leaving this world, this he did believe.
He just hoped he would find Paradise before he would have to leave.
He crawled for endless miles, seeming not to care,
He crawled on and on, not knowing where.

Paradise was out there, but he was too sore,
He knew his life was no more.
He came to accept his on-coming demise,
And soon, he closed his tired eyes.