In hiddenness I wander;
a tiger stalking the tall grass – waits
a rabbit shivered and frozen in fear – listens
Who am I, when?
For what do I wait? A capture
an escape, a kill?
No matter, the spirit fades equally well.

All fates await, all summon
all tear and rip into and out of
the souls’ recompense – as memories hasten
to be forgotten, live it large until
it’s small – hope is magic;

a tiger stalking the tall grass – hopes
a rabbit shivered in frozen fear – hopes
              in the certainty
                                     of drying ink.