Beneath the canopy of fading silver,
I once roamed with the strength of pride.
Each step a claim, each hunt a purpose,
The call of the wild being my only guide.

The scent of a bond lingered in shadows,
Etched in trails through frost and dew.
A pack's warmth, a song remembered,
Now, the echoes felt only by few.

Seasons turned, relentless, unyielding,
The forest whispered of paths untamed.
I chased the moon, I chased my hunger,
Believing the stars would stay the same.

But time reshaped the woods I knew,
And paths once clear turned dim and strange.
The howl that once sang with a chorus,
Now fades, unanswered, on the range.

When I returned to the hollowed den,
Its air was still, its tales were gone.
The pack had moved to a distant valley,
Their trails erased by time's cold dawn.

Where does a lone wolf tread when lost,
When the scent of home has slipped away?
What do you chase when the warmth you long for
Has learned no longer to stay?

The moon rose high, her gaze unfeeling,
Her light indifferent to the ache.
My howl broke sharp, a cry of mourning,
The silence answered, my fate to take.

So I wander, a shadow of longing,
Through forests thick and valleys deep.
A hunter's heart, now heavy with sorrow,
A tale untold, a soul to weep.