Vultures are the holiest creatures,
Tending with honor to the dead.
Bowed low to kiss the corpse,
With death covered wings and bare head.
They whisper to the frigid flesh,
Of words we could never hear, nor see.
“Your old name is not your own.
This dying earth; Not your king.
So forget the seeds that you have sown,
For I rename you “everything.”
Apr 25, 2025
Apr 25, 2025 at 7:18 PM UTC
Vultures are the holiest creatures,
Tending with honor to the dead.
Bowed low to kiss the corpse,
With death covered wings and bare head.
They whisper to the frigid flesh,
Of words we could never hear, nor see.
“Your old name is not your own.
This dying earth; Not your king.
So forget the seeds that you have sown,
For I rename you “everything.”
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