Unnamed Stars

That night fewer stars burned
the dark skies above the fur hunters.
Near the deep glacial melt
on Summer soft tundra
they gathered and shared the heart.
Stained hands held imagined power,
blood drenched chins dripped
liquid strength.

Their language had no name
for transfiguration, or communion.
They lived and died under unnamed stars,
raised their children by instinct
and their love remained unwritten.
In generations their prey was extinct.

Today the hunting grounds are old,
civilized and fallow.
Nothing remains but an invisible heart.
Tender fury makes it beat.
A new prey it belongs to,
Allah, Yahweh, Vishnu,
or just another unnamed star.

I look for signs
find nigh scent or spoor,
only the taste of faith
and open-throat hunger.

The rhapsodical hunt continues,
yet I sense a harrowing quest.
Not because He doesn't exist,
but because someone before me
has feasted on His heart.