The hawk and fox plan their game
Again. The night is another book
Blank pages needing to be written
Upon the strategies that must be fed.
Blind to all but they
Within the mind, real as wants, understood?
The other? To an ideal that will fail
The smooth and soothing black: an anaesthetic
The strange calling fox makes the night grow
Ever stranger – the eye of the hawk is felt
Behind the wish and want for tomorrow
Another space, a chance to relive and forget the errors past.
An eternal want for a moment’s ecstasy
The black veil reveals a griefless new day
As the hawk and fox plan: again. Always the same.