Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

A tick holds certain beauty, even through
its parasitic venture hunts, to trust
and never question – never doubt – the way
its host embraces, which direction from
its origin removes away; might ticks beget
an honored, steadfast faith in providence?
Would you embark, with such a frailty
of future guaranteed, to trust in me
that you might more than thrive beside me? Whence
such faith for all our evolution? Yet
though, when I find a parasite, I drum
alarms upon my hide and swiftly lay
it waste to rot, to disappear, and must
admit: such faith’s, such beauty’s, misconstrued.