Fox Hunt

The the herder's hand
pushes ever closer 
to the edge.

Do not move

If he gains no purchase,
he will send his handmaidens,
bearing the kiss of friendship.

Poisoned truths and honeyed lies.

Stay still 

Neither clever nor calculating
you will not win 
a game so heavily
weighted in deceptions.

What a lark it all is
for the one who blows the horn of tin.
he need only call on this one or that
willingly they act, grateful to be included,
to be needed.

So well fed on lies are they, 
 truth no longer has meaning.
Excited out of their dull lives
by the adventure of the hunt.

Hounds set on the fox
protest as you may
that you are no Vulpine
they will never listen.

For if you are not the prey
there is no hunt,
no blood to lap up
or fresh meat to
strip bare from the
bone. 

And they have been
 promised a feast.

hold fast
Lies, no matter how
pretty can out live
the truth.

This is not finished...just putting it here for now...