Antlers sharp and many pointed
Broader than shoulders
Threatens without words,
Lean and muscular
Bounding high into the sky
Fences meaning nothing.
These creatures wise without books
Knowing the language of the wood
Hissing in the whispered wind
And threatening in it’s quiet.
Knowing things by instinct,
Meaning that nobody knows
Just how it knows things.
Aware that given long hours
In sunlight some things bleach
And some things burn.
Ears turn around
As my feet the ground pound,
You already know
By the shape of my thorax
That I’m rather different.
You vanish as you smell me,
You taste my breath on the air
And foresee that I always fail
More thoroughly than I succeed
I just might try to spare your life,
So naturally you’re afraid.
– Vagabond Prophet
Vagabond Prophet 