Hush, hush,
Look.
The forest and its spirits intertwine,
The living die, get eaten or rot,
And in death blossoms fuel for creation
As nutrition or foundation.
Prey and predator, favour ebbs relentlessly
As He proclaims.
Hush, hush,
Feel.
Pinpricks of something foreign,
Contaminating the web,
The breach creates cracks,
And He watches as the cracks
become crevices
become fissures.
Hunger and savagery, a byproduct of
alien integration into
His structure.
Hush, hush,
Taste.
What He has put on our tongues,
Be it blood and flesh of our kill,
Or spit and bland air.
We, of the broken cycle,
do not complain as we live
day by day
in inescapable acceptance
of His will.
