The Hunt
#1 of Poetry
The fierce adrenaline gush, the clamoring of teeth.
Alas, our collective eyes shine
Blindness shall ne'er be
The gathering of hearts
Pounding for the glory beneath our feet
Thick air embracing us tightly
Directing our formation ever so slightly
Warm blood hangs in the wind
Its pulse harmonizing with our battle rhythm
There
Nearly a statue
Our Prize
As we bring our chase to a fulfilling end
Our teeth praising triumph with gratitude
Humbled in our salvation
Oh glorious Gaia
We hunt and love in your name