The hunt rides at midnight does it?
perhaps i have heard the call of that silent horn.
will i run as hunter or prey?
perhaps i shall flip a coin.
perhaps we will but watch from afar. never been much of a one for running really. only to avoid harm or causing it.
i know that might not be the spirit at all.
well you go on then. i neither block nor carry for karma which does its own.
but a grand hunter with a grand horn on a grand and wonderful mount.
though i might not run in either game, i do so love the midnight itself. the straingeness of landscape under stars.
the magic of that.
hunters and hunted we dance this dance.
and tonight it is this fellow, and whoever runs silent and unseen beside.
and perhapse there is some nobler deed whose horn call to answer.
to what do you ride, oh noble with your horn of summoning so fine?
are we but pearls in a bridge that awaits some dear hunter of our own hopes and dreams. lured to it's over extension. oh such delight. sadness too the poor sods.
but yes we will stand, moved on out of sight, stepping from our silent concealment at the appointed moment, energies at the ready to do as is seemly we might.
=^^=
.../\...

Jennifer Alice Peters replies:
"I must say I read this over many times, and it did if nothing, touch me more the second and third time. You are such a grand writer, if I could melt my visions into words I could not do a better job than you have done. It's good to see you are still around passing your wisdom along. Alas my artwork has fallen into silence lately, I do not know if it will be revived. Perhaps it will slip into oblivion like oh so many other childish fantasies... I cannot say, but I can say that your words speak to me."