They hunt for the beautiful, to have their chance to kill again;
they hunt for the ugly, with joy in their hearts;
they hunt for the creative, each day and night.

They hunt for the other, their fears transcended;
they hunt for the solitary, to drown their guilt;
they hunt for the helpless, with such determination.

They hunt for the bard, to protect their story;
they hunt for me, the terror of another path;
when we hunt, those slaughtered matter not.

David Morris
1999