This is the world held within two points
On the borders of sheen and stripped
Darkness not alert from the cry
Of a distant owl fluttering and coasting
Along the borders of the forest
Hunting desperately for food
In boundaries of dark and twilight
Piercing cries and shrieking crimes
Unnatural and distant in the brightest light
Ley lines of extremities unshorn
What of it.
Imaginary or real.
The hunt for sustenanceBe it shattered bones or feathers.