Long ago, in the open savannah
the antelope was our prey animal,
our meals supplied, our way of life.
Whether we ate or died depended
on the success of many men
each hoping to bring
a carcass with them.
The rich, plentiful flesh would signal
the hunter dependable, with every leg
drawn up and quartered he would be thanked
and at the end of the night he would rest
knowing he had done something
But hunts were hard to come by.
Beasts were rare, and spear tips even more so.
Man was never endowed with the speed of a cheetah,
nor its skill and cunning.
His only tactic was to run
headlong at the gazelle
until of them, one collapsed from the burden of exhaustion.
Only then could man pierce his spear through its neck
unless it was he who faltered,
the hunter instead left for wilderness to devour.
I like to believe that we are
that otherwise evades us
though these days be long gone.
We live for the gratification of a job well done
but to those who die during eternal pursuit?
By that life which he desired most,
let us say he was consumed.