Vultures


Vultures, with their grotesque bald heads,
With their rotten feathers and skeletal wings spread,
Vultures scavenge and hunt those most dear,
Soaring over the black skies and spreading fear.

Vultures loom in the skies unseen,
As deceptive as a wildcat on his predatory routine,
As heartless as a swamp witch on her latest endeavor,
Swooping in only to seize the most precious thing ever.

The lion may be the king of the Jungle,
The unformed chaos may be the prince of the Desert,
The vulture may be the terror of the forbidden sea, the Sky,
But do know that the Bear is the lord of the mountains.

Beware, beware you damned vultures lurking,
For if you lurk into the mountains smirking,
You shall find yourself in the den of the Bear,
Welcoming you to the savage jaws of Death.

When his beloved is brushed by with your talons,
The jaws of Death become the jaws of Agony,
Fly away, fly away, you damned vultures,
Before the Bear kill every single one of you...

Even if it means losing his chiefdom, his den,
Even if it means losing his sired ones, his fortune.

Penned by my hand on the 15th of Mayan, in the year 411 AF.