They dragged him.

They dragged him out of the woods

when no one saw

when no one was there to stare.

Bogged down by no remorse.

Drowned out in the noises logging machines make

and that could have drilled open even a heart of stone.

If no one but them knew, conscience was more likely to feel clean.

At least, this is what they thought.

Tied to no mercy

the six feet of him:

he didn't have one mark, the one missing or buried,

he was not like those stallions with a marking on their foreheads

he had marks all over his body, tattooed by the elements,

the animals rummaging through meaty, fleshy layers resisting the biting frost,

sniffing with innocence husk-like carcasses, empty, void, yet succulent

at the crossing line

between

wild and tamed

where nothing ever stops as the spinning goes on

taking everything down to the last possible beginning

when ghostly worms crawl back as before into

their crafted hidings

where hierarchical dissolution

is part of the evolutionary ladder - not for them-

Because nature knows best.

No time left.

Be it the tree, the horse, the man

They all end up, or down.

This episode's cover photo credited to: https://www.freepik.com/free-photo/top-view-background-beautiful-white-grey-brown-cream-blue-background_13191135.htm

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