Hunter’s Tale


A timeless voice impassioned still, whispers softly

While aimless hands curling futilely, grasp at air

And quiet eyes seeing all, find nothing there


Waters gliding ever onward, hesitate and listen as

Nature’s breath, tightly held, plays a sad old song

An endless wistful loop, on and on and on


Around the turn horizon’s edge, never mind the why

Plunges gaily dying gladly, in a tranquil place

Of silent space, a fetid cloak and hidden face


Wolves encircling with snarling smile, sooth the prey

No panic there, no fearful rolling eyes

Will halt the chorus of the wise


Yet over all and under none, there is but one

Who knows the way, both in and out

Over sea and thunder clouds


Back to the sage and ageless, timeless voice

Piercing skies, and lies, and thoughts

Of choices sold but never bought


copyright r.b.franklin 28/12/05

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