The Predator’s Lament

(Poetry as Prologue)
Oh! for the taste of
Fresh flesh rising.
Voiceless passing pressing of fresh flesh rising.
The bottom of being
skimming along the surface of
Fresh flesh rising.
Lost to the small hushed crushed hurried flurry of 
Fresh flesh rising.
-miniaturized in this,
-minimized in this,
compromised, 
faithless desperation.
Reaching to find release— for the moment
from the broken ache, 
caged aloneness.
Flesh rising and falling
Without support, of
Whole unbounded elevated spirit.

Whole unbounded spirit whispers gently,
“You are full of know better”.

Outside the gift of exchange,
Infinity has been suffering
From technical difficulties.