OLD HUNTER

Time, Old hunter, dexterous and adroit;

Like raw novices does not run or rush,

But stalks the prey with patience. On the quiet,

It moves and huddles in the bush.

The prey, oblivious of approaching doom

Thus hides and feels from danger safe and sound;

And likewise humans, when in limited room

Of understanding, complacency bound

Forget this wily hunter, who his self

has noiseless made to catch them unaware.

He finds them easy prey, engaged in pelf

And petty squabbles over land and ware.

It noiseless, deathless, endless, quietly moves

In plains and deserts on pre-destined groves.