Queen Of The Dark Hunt Revised

 

The cool dark silk of evening’s vale uncloaks veneered disguise.
Shared inheritors stake their claim against the fool and wise.
Siblings of the day and lesser light seek what they despise.
Drawn by scent to taste the flesh and hear their begs and cries.
For some the hunt is only in the taking of a prize.
For others theirs is fellowship of brotherhood allies.
Mine’s before that truthful moment seen in vacant eyes.
To savor in the deadly pause of resignation and surprise.
A scant reward by those who dwell to envy and chastise.
Saved once more in their loss I’m blessed, refreshed, baptized.
Each plays their role brief for some others endlessly reprise.
Desperately they feed their want as the soul within them dies.
My privilege is to share with them their judgment and demise.
As they too will delight in mine some time distant I surmise.
Heed the day as I must do and weep each your sad goodbyes.
For the cloak of night is coming soon and I again shall rise.