Leathery bag of bones
Glaring socket of eyes
It's hard to believe
That this was once a human being
Farming the mountain terraces,
Going to war for his King
His lifeless body was placed here
In this windswept wasteland
To dry and mummify
So that his soul had
Something to come home to
Something that persisted
Like the rocks
In this impermanent world
While his spirit
Rode the wind
…forever
