Dark Lord of the Hunt

As the darkness comes alive

And the sun begins to fall

He awakens from his slumber

As he roams these hallowed halls

For the hour is upon him

For the hunt he must prepare

He knows well that she is waiting

Her sacred scent is in the air

She’s elusive and beguiling

Moving naked ‘cross the glade

She will taunt and she will tease you

She will cut you like a blade

She is pure intoxication

Passion in it’s purest form

Senses heightened, pulses quicken

As the blood begins to warm

As he walks among the forest

Determination on his face

He knows that he will find her

For now, he relishes the chase

He can see her swaying slowly

Beneath the moonlight on a hill

Anticipation stirs within him

As he moves in for the kill

© The Beginning At Last