Your empty vessel of humankind grinds down,
bit by bit.
Grubs of carrion feast on its flesh,
and the rest turn to the energy of plants.
Featherless bipeds loose from their roost,
flock the scene of decay.
The feasters become the feasts,
as peckers pluck them from the rot.
They swirl in canteens of acid,
fueling the creation of ovals of birth.
These births are intercepted,
as a sower of seeds takes the ovals
and scrambles them for the rising sun.
Serpents of mulch writhe to the scene,
and feast on the nutrients of the energy of plants.
The orange four-legged beast of beauty uses its shovel of food,
exposing serpents to the stuff of skies.
Their flights are cut short,
as the beast's claw of white rocks
burrows into the ground,
gobbling them up.
When it's on its way, there is a loud bang,
and the beast falls dead.
Its pelt is separated from the body,
and its flesh consumed
by a bearer of firearms.
The sower and the bearer lived on.
