A hunter must always let nature lead
Deafening the silence of my fair glen,
Stirring in the burrows and fallen leaves,
The nests in trees, the comfort of the den.
Yet who prowls there at dusk or light of dawn,
Or the patient owl in darkness of night.
What hungry wolf preys on a helpless fawn
Or eagle on unwary fish in flight.
In the midst of wood we are the prey.
In the midst of life we are all the same,
Struggling to remain and just simply stay.
In the end … no one but ourselves to blame.
As we wander, aren't we like all the rest -
Both hunter and prey, we are truly blessed.