Eyes Of The Hunter.

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Blog Post About This Poem.

The burned down forest where winds still roam in search,
For the living to be burned the swirling flames missed,
The hunter looking for his one-time meal he must hunt,
But the wrath of God or Devil that wiped it all he knows not.

He is afraid of nothing, no wind, no fire, nothing imaginable,
That which lurks beyond knowledge, to face eye to eye, he prepared,
The embers glowing at him with their dying unknown vengeance,
Those they consumed, ah’, fallen for the generations to come.

Step by step he walked as life in the chaos reflected,
The material melancholy everyone living in every way mocked,
Oh’, that mockery is hunting the hunter as slowly he walked,
Then as if in kindness he sat, with his eyes welling like that of a mother.

The ashes showed the shape of a fawn with only eyes to be burned,
The teardrop from his eyes put off that little fire and he up he looked,
And in all clarity, he can see the mother looking at him as he killed,
He little one and vengeance burned in her eyes as she charged.

Justice can only be spoken by the survivers, ah’, that’s human law,
Those perished already spent and their sins and goods already written,
And to survive the fire, fire he must and without hesitation fire he did,
The arrow didn’t miss the broken heart as for her passing he waited.

The wind felt the hunt and turned and raced to him and his kill,
The vengeance of the wind subsided and no fire came with her,
Oh’, no ordinary hunter he is as in his eyes no reflection of chaos seen,
All wind and fires in his eyes seen were the reflections of his lost love.

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