The Hunt

The excitement of the chase makes me jittery

For a time still as a wild cat ready to pounce

There is no obstacle around me

Only boons: the rocks hiding places to sweep

Stepping stones to jump

The ferns mask my presence

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Their rustling a sign of thrills to come

The thirst grows as I feel movement

A prey?

All is speed on the trail. Is it a hare?

Nothing matters until there is blood on my breath

Winded, I lick my chops

The game is won, the prize assured

A morsel, true, but a success nonetheless

Who will be next?

The forlorn stargazing robot

Scarlet dawn, lonely view

Trail of stars vanishing behind you

Company is near but you do not pursue

You dramatize the circumstances

But life is not a song

With heroic figures taking stances

For or against great causes. The throng

Is in sight, even all around

The lonesome island but an illusion

Loneliness is a state of the mind

As the world goes round

Each cog moves through the motions

Though emptiness is all there is behind

Only instinct and mechanism

In aching need of a schism

Animal or machine

Is there nothing in between?