The soul's one

Where the grass grows longer
That is where it waits, low to the ground
Nose to the wind eyes over the furry tops
Back leg' s feet replace the front leg's foot falls
As it gets closer and closer to the preys rustling and calls
Aroma and noise enticing it's senses

Sweeping the stems
the wind collaborates as if by will
Almost intoxicated by the certainty of the kill
stalking is the only act it's soul reveres
And landing on that prey claws beared

Swirling chaos and springing panic and fear
blunt concussion sharp deep contusions into organs and lungs
The sweet taste of blood dancing on each tastebud of the the tongue
the claws and teeth burst into a mad frenzy

The carcass still and empty like an overturned pew
a weak testament to the animal it once belonged to
The grass a crimson mess, all through
A satisfied grin, the soul's one true