The cat is as silent as the mouse it is stalking like the shadow of a ghost. Hunting now.

The wall of brambles is as sharp as a wolf’s bite like walking into a bee-hive. Protecting us.

The Sandy hollow is as dusty as a forgotten air vent like a barren wasteland. Practice now.

The orange blur of battles is as fast as the tongues of fire they started like a bright shadow. Fighting now.

The way we live is as lonely as a single Reed in a field of grass like the wrath of many. Alone with the wind.