Who’s who ?
The beast is desperate.
Fear of starvation,
Sharpens his senses.
Ears to the ground,
Body taut and prepared to leap and clutch,
Nostrils flaring to catch the scent of prey.
Patience of a rock,
Freezing time and space,
A survival necessity;
For not killing means death.
The prey satiated in the gut.
Tip-toeing; no rustling of the dry leaves.
Slithering through the darkness.
Excited. But not enough to betray fear.
Toying with all the senses:
An aural mirage,
Hallucinating shadows,
Hint of a smell.
Prey or wily temptress.
Alas the cruel sands of time melt into the dawn.
The prey lives to recount the game.
The beast starves - broken mortally scared.
The prey - the perpetrator.
The beast - the victim.
What seems isn’t so.
All a storm in a teacup.
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