The Collector

In the young realm, 

I was born for cleansing,

Where eternity marked my commitment.

With the evolution of life,

The call of my duty unfolded.

In the calmness of serenity,

Of fruit-bearing, 

And fragrance of elegant zenith,

I get summoned by a hungry herbivore.

In the wilderness, 

Of the battle of interchangeable, 

Prey and predator.

I get summoned to the feast.

In the colony of macroscopic, timberland

of the venomous, fierce, and 

stinging afflictions,

get crushed in the kingdom of Goliath.

I get summoned at the tragedy.

In the survival of the competent, 

the beast and fatality, 

get ambushed by voracious culture.

I get summoned to the carnage.

At the fury, of peaceful nature

as the calamity claims an 

an array of lineage.

I get summoned at the portal of hell.

In a civilized society 

blessed with a superfluous sense,

the hunt transpires for emotional motive,

as the covetousness contends unborn 

and self inception, 

while the boldness breaks into transient 

coward, the suicide ensues.

I get summoned with agonizing pity.

I have no partiality, in a 

power-driven territory.

I will amass, the soul as the 

call of obligation.

Dawdle for your turn, 

existence is delightful,

cruise on the tide, till I conjure 

your lifeline towards flat liner.