The wolf and the swan, of these two a union made. I am the wolf, I grant no quarter; allow none between myself and mine own. You are the swan, your grace sees beyond an impertinent nature; it finds beauty where there is none to be seen. Ferocious and loyal, you find fault in my tenacity yet respect its essence. Gentle and enlightened, I find frustration in your nobility, wish to cast away this shackle and free your spirit. You long to gentle me to your passive ways; I will myself to fight all the more – not against you, but to stand guard before you. You see with clarity, with judgment, with a cool aloofness my feral devotion does not allow; not because I lack honor or dignity, but because I will not lay down the bone. My intent strong, I will not allow you to steal the meaning behind my action; your intent not to steal but to soothe, you will not be swayed by my aggression. You are my lover, passionate to a fault, yet I see no fault in you. I am fearless and brave; I will chase the ills of the world from your sight, though you would ‘oft demand I not. This hound no longer lone; this swan now free to float on waves of inspiration.

At odds this pairing, perfectly in order – the order of chaos, the perfection of discord; happiness found in restriction, a mate for the soul.

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