Hunt For Fruition Poem by Sam Edison

As the darkness falls on the summer of death
The new autumn beginning bears its first breathe
Magnificence explodes from the moon lit clouds above

Trickles down and transforms in to that first New York frost
A promising future, one of euphoria, and one of love
The taste comparable to whiskey with the aroma of angel dust

A smoke filled room
An unescapable tomb

That triumphant feeling as we leave it in the rearview mirror of months past
New season, new beginnings, with promise up ahead
We shall remember our dead and bring their remembrance to this bliss in our view

But we cant catch our dinner if we do not begin our hunt
Camouflage and shotguns in hand we progress towards our fruition