The Hunter Is A Moving Boundary Poem by William He

The Hunter Is a Moving Boundary
By William He

Faded crimson—a drop of ink.
It stains the edge of a dimming field,
Where a lone shadow holds its ground.
Farewell to mortal dust,
As the vision thins and flickers out,
Wasteland drains to insubstantial scene.
A pulse of life marks a narrow frame,
But who can tell,
Where the hunter's field begins.
Look closely at the shift,
Shadows circle as they drift,
Settling into the body like a second mind.

Softly restoring the old haunts,
But who becomes the prey,
When reason starts to slip.
Cutting through wire, through boundary lines,
Through a maze of set and waiting snares,
Before the thinking mind turns cold.
Buried deep: traces of heat and want,
Waiting for that final breath,
The sharp recoil of a single shot.
Within the canvas,
Hunting what has not drifted away,
Half truth, half the shape of illusion.

疏影 题米罗《加泰罗尼亚风景》(猎人）画
作者：何威廉

残红点墨。
见远郊旷野，
孤影寥寂。
暂别凡尘，
魔幻初消，
荒原渐入虚白。
生机漫写微躯小，
谁识得、
猎场开辟。
算绝奇、
逐影浮游，
化作梦魂全息。

轻绘平涂故地，
竟谁为野物，
荒诞逻辑。
戳破樊篱，
陷阱重重，
不让理心远隔。
深藏隐喻情和欲，
正待那、
一枪余力。
向画中、
试问初心，
半幻半真颜色。