I now lie
As a lone wolf in an empty field,
The wind dead,
The chirping guppies respiting
In a nearby stream —
.
I tend to my duties,
But as the sun scorches my fur
I feel this life ending,
I feel the meat making
Recourse
.
Of all those corpses
I rendered, needing
Food, I will descend
Into worlds more prismatic,
Worlds of purple glasses
Which cannot be touched,
Only stared at
For 1,000 years.