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Two contrasting breathing styles (poetry)

    The Hunt


    The excitement of the chase makes me jittery


    For a time still as a wild cat ready to pounce


    There is no obstacle around me


    Only boons: the rocks hiding places to sweep


    Stepping stones to jump


    The ferns mask my presenceIf you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    Their rustling a sign of thrills to come


    The thirst grows as I feel movement


    A prey?


    All is speed on the trail. Is it a hare?


    Nothing matters until there is blood on my breath


    Winded, I lick my chops


    The game is won, the prize assured


    A morsel, true, but a success nonetheless


    Who will be next?


    The forlorn stargazing robot


    Scarlet dawn, lonely view


    Trail of stars vanishing behind you


    Company is near but you do not pursue


    You dramatize the circumstances


    But life is not a song


    With heroic figures taking stances


    For or against great causes. The throng


    Is in sight, even all around


    The lonesome island but an illusion


    Loneliness is a state of the mind


    As the world goes round


    Each cog moves through the motions


    Though emptiness is all there is behind


    Only instinct and mechanism


    In aching need of a schism


    Animal or machine


    Is there nothing in between?
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