The Hunt

Ride - hands like iron and eyes like stone,
The blind winter sea ablaze
Under opium dreams.
Sedate wonder and shallow breath;
A shadow in living stone.
Sharp and vicious wind,
The liquid curve of the moon sweeping smooth
Over icy skin and bloodshot eyes.
We speak in hushed and mournful tones,
Tongues like serpents and burning with rapturous fever -
The thundering rhythm of myth bending warrior truth.
Sacred and broken;
There is a mercy granted upon desperate souls.
We are eternal.
On we rode across the ancient earth,
Our arrows sharpened for the hunt.