Original Sin

Ever find us to pass longing will –
hunger driven, in monumental still –
blood soaked leaves of forest fall –
our flung spear, true and tall –
split wide the beast – an eerie chill
To find hunt sweeter than kill.
Forward the hunt shall ever go –
never sate our blackened soul.

And so friend, ready the bow
search for sweetness in death.
That certain peace we’ll never know
until comes our own last breath.
’til then should arrow point flee –
as fate puts her sight on we.

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© 2015 John Allen Richter
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About johnallenrichter

I am an aspiring Poet and adorer of life, a conqueror of nothing. However I am a champion curator of truth and friendship and hold both of those things most dearly to my heart. Welcome to my mind's eye. I hope you will enjoy what you may find and please know that you have a friend here. View all posts by johnallenrichter

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