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?