As the wolf is pushed to the brink of extinction
She looks back on those who have pushed her there
There is no malice in her eyes
Just a kind of grim understanding
For she knows that, it is not her that is lost
But the tame humans
Who have lost their true spirit
The wild calls to her, and she follows
She follows, knowing where her path will path will lead her
But she follows none the less
For she can no more ignore her spirits
Than she could not be a wolf
And she knows that when she is gone from this world
Her legacy will forever live on
For even if her species is forever gone
The true spirit of the wolf can never die
~by Cheyne Highwind, 1999
Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am the thousand winds that blow;
I am the diamond glints on the snow
I am the sunlight on the ripened grain;
I am the gentle autumn's rain
When you awaken in the mornings hush;
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of the quiet birds in circled flight,
I am the soft star that shines at night
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there; I did not die.
~ Mary Fyre (1932)