Glorified remains (please critique)
A deer died months ago
Withered and sick, slowly passing on the cold breathless ground
And now I’ve found its remains.
Stoke white and crackled with the rest of its pure varnished skeleton.
The ere remains lay in the formidable shape the holy resting.
The frail decayed body lay untouched, unscathed
A holy resting-place fit for the rest.
Fit for kings,
Fit for the uncrossed
This deer must have been a leader
A full bronzed, lively male buck, lost amongst his own glory
Wise, stealthily, brave.
He must have died fighting for his pack
Died in the blood shed of territorial pride, saved the others
The buck slowly slipped away under the heavy beat of the sun-stoked air
He died as the others watched with high heads.
They calmly gathered around and made their last maudlin cry
Left him in his mangled pride ridden position to rest eternally
He was a leader
He would return
But now his glorified remains are left to decay and prosper
Months later his body is decayed, but just as meaningful
They rest untouched, almost a part of the vast majestic underground
An isolated entangled grave unseen and unorthodox, spread throughout the land
Perched on top of it all powerful hill, watching from above
The people will never feel the intense pain of beautiful sorrow
They will never feel the glorified disaster of a lost member of a holy tribe.
I was tempted to take a piece of his remains
A fragment of his past, to show the people the magnitude of such life
But not, leaders like these deserve their graveyard perch above the others.