Gazelle takes on land
It has made love on before.
You will learn He has no further passion
For such deeds
If He is to survive another day.
No types of insects, flowers or trees exist
Here, nor will any be imported.
He wouldn’t recall
The view even if projected
Unlike you and I.
Only an angled sun
Will record the fallen meat.
I have worshipped decay sat on my plate
But now imagine
A flaming horizon bare of nature and us.
What hunt does He need to make ―
When dust covers all?
You and I are far away
Not deserted or filled with lust and rage
Or unable to eat our own flesh!
David A. Church