Let flaming life—consuming, dooming—fill
The logs and carve dark wolves, whose wild red eyes—
Askance, entrancing—fix me for the kill.
Were not the carnivores encaged, swift paws
Would hurl me screaming into scorching depths
Of crimson maws through gate-like gaping jaws.
But fate, not random lust or hate, prevails,
And wins the best, for now it is not I
That destiny subdues as fire glow fails.