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| picture credit: http://www.deviantart.com/art/In-the-dark-forest-V-156693013 |
The Hunter is on the prowl this black and stormy night
where branches strike at roofs and windows,
and assaults the subconscious fears of those
who dare to listen to their wrath.
He feels their fear, he needs no light,
their scent a clear path to his offering, his prey,
who is defenseless and exposed, removed from the arms of his protector,
who is dwelling in the cloak of safety endowed onto those
who live in the spirit world, in essence and in presence.
His strike is deadly, through the forest into the heart,
the absolute silence deepening as he targets in on his prey,
seconds hover between life and death...
...it’s the arms of his protector that close ‘round him,
shielding him in her cloak, as the gold-tipped arrow hisses past
and comes to a quivering stop in the wall behind his heart.
It’s The Hunter who can’t miss, born of anger and in darkness,
but who’s earthly touch can’t feel, cannot breach in any way,
that binding link between two souls who in spirit are connected.
Shadow that stink of fear, it is a scent trail most people don't know they leave. I never once i became a man could see any sense in giving advantage to The Hunter, there was never a guarantee the protector would find me or that the arrow, well shot would still not ricochet off my wall and hit me regardless.
ReplyDeleteThis piece works on so many levels. Nicely done, Shadow, as always.
ReplyDeletehello shadow its dennis the vizsla dog hay this hunter sownds like sumwun wot buffy the vampire slayer mite be intrested in ketching but it is no wun i wood want to meet!!! ok bye
ReplyDeleteWOW!
ReplyDeleteThis gave me goose bumps....great writing Shadow! :-)
ReplyDelete