An old man once said to me,

On a dark hazy night

Two wolves are sheltered in each of us

And someday they'll have to fight

Things you do are the plants you farm,

And your thoughts are the seeds

One is wisdom, the other's chaos,

So beware the one you feed

From this day, I often wondered

If none of them was the better path

They could breed instead of taking over

To make a third one out of their wrath

Full of goodwills my bitter side spoke,

I chose to let them starve away

The table's set and ready for the feast

I'll feed the orphan and make it my way.

On my grey cub I ride the storms and the sunbeams of life.