Tomorrow
stalks us
sleek and hungry
   and hot

We are its prey;
our conflicting desires its blood scent:

   the phenomenal –
      devouring all else
      impossible to surpass
      or even again equal
         devastating in its perfection;

   the sublime –
      whetting its appetite for more
      and more and still more
         addicting in its repletion;

   and the just good enough –
      making it well worth risk
      but not worth repeat
         liberating in its extinction.

We cling to fading strength
as it circles, ravenous.
Relentless.
Our cave of will
scant shelter. Vigilance
no longer enough to keep
the inevitable at bay.

It comes.