As I walked on through the dark recesses,
The rocky cliffside; where shadows lived in the afternoon sun,
a place where the lost in time forever roamed,
where no light could survive
By noon it was it was modest of its breadth,
a small crack on the ground of a vast plane
Almost invisible, but still there.
It was here the Vultures roosted,
their broken backs; bent forward and looking onward,
They sharpened their talons at passers-by; "What benefits do they posses?"
As they circled above them, waiting. watching.
In this valley could be found the mighty ox;
who's body in scars were covered like the seasoned hero;
As he stepped on the sharper rocks he would lash outwards with his mighty horns;
as if trying in vain to break out; as more rocks would land on him.
I have met the vultures,
even the ox who forever thrashes,
once silenced, they are barely noticeable,
Even those who belong waist-deep in ice; their threat means nothing to me.
It is the mind I truly fear; for it is deemed creator of such dark places,
It snakes like a vine; controls your eyes,
such that no matter how bright the sun,
all you will see in this plane is the beckoning shadow.
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