Crouching silently,
The hunter lies still
Barely a breath escapes
His agile body.
With the speed
Of a fierce lion
And the precision of
A skilled hawk
He spots his tiny prey

He watches
Using practiced patience
For the perfect moment
Then
It is done
As quickly as the hunt began
An arrow pierces it's target
Silent and quick

The hunter is successful
And the prey unaware
It was ever in scope

Sometimes I wonder
Is this like life?
Unaware until it is
Just
Too
Late.
Or am I in control,
Swiftly passing through?
I suppose it
Begs the question
Am I the hunter,
Or the hunted?