Huntsman

[Silver Saint]

Huntsman

I bear claws without paws, wounds without cause,

And prey that may be dead.

An unknown among knowledge, don’t know what to call it,

But purpose as pure as my bed.

The darkness shines and I grow unkind,

My hunger grows to my fill.

I’ll not be dissuaded; no matter I’m hated,

I wait for the perfect kill.

Will I taste my blood, will she spill the flood?

Perfection lies in tandem.

The drive for my bite, the reason to fight;

My death cannot be random.





This verse is a re-write of an old poem I just couldn't get to flow. I'm much happier with the end result now. It is very symbolic, but I'll leave it to any who can understand where I come from to discern it's meaning.
Go with God.



I am aware,
Isacc