The space between hunter and hunted

Today, I came into your home,
enduring brush, bush, and twig terrain,
to stumble upon your earthen front door.  
I arrived uninvited, but how could I have been invited?  
You did not fathom my existence until this day. 

One step through you wide open front doors
and your residence splayed itself out in front of me.
It was laid out much like an urban studio flat,
with each room melting into the next. 
Your home is infinitely bigger, yet not big enough.

 I feel electric tension spike when we first engage one another. 

Suddenly, the stench of anger, fear, and sorrow
carries itself upon the breeze between you and I.  
Impending doom divides us instantly,
from perfect strangers, to the intimate closeness
of the hunter and the hunted.

With crosshairs sweeping towards you,
I pray you can sense my respect and thankfulness
for your life that I am about to take.  
As physics and mechanics collide,
thunder rips the air between us,
hurtling death in the form of a single lead slug.  
The nanoseconds pass like split seconds
and the split seconds play out
like an overcast October sky.

As the gun smoke clouds my vision,
I sort of hope you escaped unscathed,
without the taint of malice or trauma.  
Although when the smoke clears,
there you lie, quickly dying as I had intended.

            
I come in close enough to share the same air
that fills your last breath to pay my respects.  
You have passed into forever sleep.
“Thank you”, I whisper,
laying my palm upon your peaceful face,
Quietly closing the space between the hunter and the hunted.