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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Environment · #905522
The nature of Fall
Hallow Be Thy Name


I am He who stalks Summer's riddled age,
striking in a spectacular display
of splattering essence and flying debris,
that leaves my prey in throes and gasping,
to catch its last warm breath.

I am He, whose gaze watches
my victim's body shiver and eyes darken,
as I gnaw at marrow and flesh,
devouring all but the grisliest tidbits,
to a picked skeletal frame,
before I spread wide wings,
scattering up dried bones,
and air away.,

A Hunter, A Killer,
Murderous Slayer of Living.
Far more fitting names
than Autumn or Fall,
whose names denote little of
my ferocity, my wildness,
my lust for vitality.

The Hallow, yes,
call me that.
© Copyright 2004 neophyte (indytim28 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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