there's a beat
a rhythm to the step
in which the festering wight
ascended those steps
carved into the great mountain

a certain heat
escaping from its lips,
shrouding and smoking,
leaning great rimmed horns
and a snarl to match the dip

a certain weight,
involuntary and hidden
burden carried without sight
knowing, diving into the unknown
into the orchestra of this strange creature

dancing among the prongs  
facing headstrong into the blazing wind
a gasp of relief, a sigh of terrible scare
as the stairs welded narrower
it had not the wings to fly
but save for the fire in its words
and the power in its horns,

an ugly beast set out alone
a wayfaring stranger like
any other,
it feels the notion too
feels the fragile, flickering gaze
of empty space underneath
its feet