Am I the with, or the without? Am I the answer, or the question? Am I the prey - no, the hunter has always lived inside me, quivering, humming, abandoned and sickly among the catgrass, fill me up with honey and watch them die to eat it. Let me taste the dew and stare into the earth like an ocean, watch the shadow come from below, not above, watch the hills rise like ripples, the trees shake and collapse like droplets, the sky cries as the crescendo tips the water from it, upwards - why! We will shout, feel the sweetness on our lips, why! Feel the hunter in our hands, why! And the shadow will answer with unearthly power, and we will understand.
©another
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