HUNTERS FOR LIFE

Here you go, a poem

something I have learnt

sometimes I do writing

mostly stories meant to burn.

They all begin the same

a hunter starts to hunt

a hunter with no name

another hunter with no life.

Without ever finishing their game anyway

nothing more lame than a half-done play.

Half-lovers, half-men, with their artificial eyes

it's so sad to watch them disappear in their own lies.

Feel the passion now

or these words are too rough?

Tell me something now,

was this good enough?

Was it good, was I cute, when was that, was it all right

was I gentle, was I tuned, not too soon, not too tight

did it hurt when you heard how you never had a heart
does it hurt not to have one and to hunt the hearts whole life

Blade Runner, 1982.

Maybe in those last moments he loved life more than he ever had before. Not just his life - anybody's life; my life. All he'd wanted were the same answers the rest of us want. Where did I come from? Where am I going? How long have I got? All I could do was sit there and watch him die.

A.B.

Invitation to Inspiration