His body is rigid as he glides through the icy waters.
He has but one thought upon His mind.
His existence depends upon this hunt,
the ultimate find.
He controls this sparse abyss;
the only where he can breath,
within this confine, he is free.
He has become a skillful hunter,
while navigating these waters.
He IS the Master of His sea.
Warmth no longer runs through His
tattered veins: No fears, no remorse, no hope, no pain.
His eyes are black; He sees no color
for His world is dark.
He fears no predators; He IS the Shark.
He catches a glimpse of the treasure
and speeds ahead.
The sea becomes calm as the waves subside.
He floats in silence, as one with the tide.
Something catches His eye, He tries to place it.....
A memory? A feeling, so distant and faint.
A time long ago when hunting was effortless.
He ponders and wonders...tonight will He rest?
But the hunger is growing and eats at His morrow.
The hunt must resume lest His dreams return to sorrow.