A corner of life in riddles

PUDDLES:

Imagine all of life,

In a puddle at your feet.

When you have the smallest of wounds,

It can burn to hold it.

When it tips,

It cascades into a thousand little droplets.

But when you stare down into its beautiful contents,

You see it all as clear as glass.

THE HUNTER:

Smoke whirls around his face.

The fire crackles.

The cold is unbearable,

But the warmth of the blaze seeps in.

His name,

Forgotten.

His family,

Forgotten.

His life,

Forgotten.

All is forgotten but the need to hunt.

That's his life now.

To hunt.

He named himself after it.

The Hunter.

He smiles as he says it,

"The Hunter."

He's grinning now.

"The Hunter!"

It echoes around the cold and barren land,

Again and again.

"THE HUNTER!"

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Sorry if its hard to read, I didn't really have time to edit.

Thanks for the votes!

My eyes:

See black.

My lips:

Taste smoke.

The fire burns bright.

So bright.

I reach out to touch,

Pain!

Oh the pain!

My eyes:

See black.

My lips:

Taste smoke.

The fire is a welcoming sight.

Blazing.

Flickering.

Burning.

So many ways of the fire.

The fire.

MY fire.

My eyes:

See black.

My lips:

Taste smoke.

The fire is my mother.

And I am it's child.