In the valley of mist and sorrow, I wandered for eons, just to get a chance to see what path my heart would follow, but all it did was point to Orion.
And so it seemed that my calling was to hunt, to track down for ages what my ambition would overcome in seconds, until I find the almighty prey that would turn my ambition to that of a runt,
that would make me drop my guard to gentle beckons.
Through the valley I trek, the prey to find, and along the way I made a friend, a spy.
She came from the enemy side, from the ones I called prey, that everyday would tear a piece of me away, but she always tried to keep me safe.
So in thunderous steps I marched to do the same for her, not noticing the splendid serendipity, oblivious to my heart now pointing from Orion to Ursa Minor, from the hunter to the prey,
from my tired blue eyes, to her restless soul.