Crownless dawn, the marrow hums, A silent oath beneath the skin. No god commands the fang that feeds, No priest denies the hunger within. Ash-born fields, and breathless skies, The old tongue stirs in bone and seed. In every wound the wild writes law, In every kill the creed is freed. No virtue in the breath you steal, No sin in claw, no guilt in kill. The flesh is truth, the mind—disease, The hunt endures when thrones lie still. Beneath the frost, the pulse of dirt, A rhythm older than despair. It beats in wolves, it beats in men, It calls the strong — the ones who dare. In teeth and blood, the theorem is solved! The wild prevails where gods dissolved! No mercy, no heaven, no higher command— Only the law of the feral hand Through root and vein, the silence speaks, A hymn of tooth and broken spear. Each death a verse, each life a curse, The song that only beasts can hear. The forest breathes, the cities fade, The rivers choke on man’s remains. What once was order rots to dust — The feral truth, unchained, remains. Cold fires rise beneath the soil, The sun decays in the wolf’s red eye. The mind dissolves in instinct’s coil, And every dream is taught to die. In teeth and blood, the theorem is solved! The flesh reborn, the soul absolved! Through claw and scream the stars are torn— The feral law reborn! No scripture. No crown. Only the hunt eternal.
