Hunting of the Ilk - A poem of word slippage

Elusive beasts,
hiding from most folks,
amid the very crowds
they seek to be separate from,
as they move secretly
to avoid being found.

Shared beliefs
build up their herd,
in soft spoken words
murmured in quiet places, far scattered,
where they bunch up
before breaking off singly.

Long sought
by those who wish
for kindred thinking souls
who walk and talk the same
as those seeking them.
Yet, so rarely found.

Hunting for my Ilk,
only to find them gone,
or never in places I search,
leaves me wondering out loud
"Are they mythical beasts?"

They hide,
the Ilk I seek,
fearing becoming their foes,
the ancient predators called many names,
mostly, "the In-Crowd",
who destroy by popularity.

Brief glimpses
in hazy summer air,
smoke filled back rooms,
bookstores, libraries, even fancy coffee shops,
and, still, no proof
they really do exist.

Sneaking away,
the Ilk find refuge
away from all others,
even those of their own kind,
making them nigh impossible
to approach or join.

We all hunt Ilk,
to mingle with at will,
and let our shields drop down
to show the inner flames
our beliefs burn with.

Like minds,
proves yet another lie,
when one finds them,
bunched up at a watering hole,
for all their talk,
too many divisions remain.

Choices made
ban one from herds
the Ilk make daily.
Wrong politics, foolish religious beliefs espoused,
or just simpler things,
like what one wears.

Amid darkness,
punctuated by flickering light,
the ghostly prey wanders
only on the ether called "Internet",
to prove their existence
or lure more hunters.

Never found my Ilk,
save in that one place,
where electrons flow as strange streams,
and data forms wild forests
created from our imaginations.

Yet still I hunt
for them in our world,
to see if they do exist
or are just small figments
of my dark imagination.

Once more,
back to the hunt,
sneaking about the world,
ears open for the few hints
that they do exist.
For, I am still....

...Hunting Ilk.

14June2014 - Dyfedd Rex