Posted on February 28, 2012 at 7:45 PM
The hunter recalls the path of loneliness,
Treading on ashes and softened feathers,
He raises his head,
A distinctive countenance...
Bow and arrow, he aims,
His device deadlier,
Than a hundred nooses...
Alas the sun setting, the sky a mixture, well blended,
The hunter gathers his piercing tools, left unattended,
He returns to his hut, amidst the wilderness,
His fire is dim, but ablaze for the purpose,
He eats his share of a daily reoccurrence,
The next day unrevealed,
He knows no assurance...
Dawn draws in, dressed in ghastly sequins,
The hunter rises, the winds become gusty breezes,
The ashes of yesterday are scattered,
The swirling smoke ceases...