flex the wind you battered sails
and run the steep and lowly craft falling to the crags below below
breathe the misty scent of ancient days and foreign air and broken bones and shattered plate
and hear the echoed cries from days and times long past
shine you glint reflecting conquest
and travel long at lightning speeds to run the dark and blind the eye
tremble trim and fatted flesh and pour the sweat and run the blood and mix the both
and smell the foul and fetid nature of it all
walk the land and bury riches
of the kings and servants who would fall to fall and push the same
burn the fields of rice and wheat to starve the child and anger the man and confuse the locust
and feel the heat of sooted breath
and who that claimed the right to trample
who that made the right to fall
when gone is gone is gone
and what is left perhaps was not so weighty as all this
Like Walking Trees 