I am the unformed thought
waking you at night.
Just beyond the filament of words,
unnetted by vowel or consonant,
I am the terrible of anticipation.
While you hunt me, I stalk you,
stealing behind strands of consciousness.
I am the beast at the center,
the one you’ve come to slay.
Yet, the hunter is shaped by the prey.
Let go the thread!
At the heart you’ll find—