A skeletal stag standing ten trees tall Hanging moss adorning His wide antlers, patches of rocky lichen covering His driftwood bones Large cloven hooves stepping carefully yet purposefully among the bleached remains littering the forest floor He alone reigns here, in this place beneath ours Even the pines fall silent as He passes Even the stones The air is old here Thick with a power lost to time Only He is left; a dimming flicker in a collective consciousness Keeping a lonely vigil in an ancient forest a thousand miles deep and a hand's width beside us No breath is drawn here The soft rattling of His timber ribcage is the sole sound as He moves Ceaselessly Without rest To a place always changing, never quite there The ossuaries lay in a heavy silence He assures the eternal slumber of all who rest here The hollows in His skull seem to observe them, undisturbed He moves on His name has been forgotten for millennia This sacred ground has become but a fleeting memory Few old gods remain, lost to the quickening of time He remembers, as He stands keeper of this place Of an age before ours When they would polish the skulls of the hunt with holy oils in His name Dancing wildly and unburdened around towering flames Primal sounds ripping raw from reverent lips Now He is all but a wavering in the annals He pauses in His endless march Raises His great antlers to the thick canopy above He listens Feels the shift -- another one has faded He will most likely be the last of His kind A somber sentinel tasked with ensuring the dead wake not from their final sleep Ensuring the silence is suffocating A deep, weighted vibration As if the place under ours was itself thrumming with power Though none remain who once spoke His true name in fearful whispers He will outlast For all will eventually come to know The one they now call death
The ungrateful people here Don't seem to appreciate deer They tell me deer are giant rats with hooves And I always think to myself If deer didn't exist And I told you there was a giant rat with hooves You wouldn't want to see that ****?
I was making my way down The highway, Cornfields on both sides of me. The moon shined even though It was still day time. The sky was a light lavender shade That oozed into a faded blue Twilight, you could say. I caught a glimpse of a doe And her baby Walking through the endless field. My mind wandered. Where did they come from? Perhaps they came from Deep in the woods, Where the birds sang And the creek bubbles, The sun seeps through the trees. Perhaps all the animals got along, Or maybe, They came from an open field, Maybe they had a family, A buck, a herd, Possibly even a few more fawns. Maybe something drove them from there. Maybe a gun, Maybe a predator, Maybe weather. My mind wandered more, Where were they going? Were they looking for somewhere safe? Or were they only trying to survive? I wished I could see more of their journey. I wanted to root them on. Keep living! Keep fighting! Where ever you're off to, keep going! Then the moment passed, They were long out of my sight. I hope they are still alright. I hope they were alright.
You, my dear, are very much unlike the rest. Your antlers have not yet grown in and you worry they never will. But the boy with amber eyes says that yours will be made of crystal and not of bone and velvet. ☪