KIERSTEN BENSON
(1997-20--)
STAG
THE KING of solace,
Grazes in the wood.
A crown of timber rests upon his head.
Damp earth quells below him.
Deep roots bow within him.
Yet the sky is not his victim.
Trees and life become his cloak.
He carries nothing else.
A steady traveler, he becomes.
His call is composed,
The film of white he'll never see.
A captive to a lonesome heart, he remains.
No army bears his name.
Misting breath swirls as his flag.
He is brave, yet he stands alone.
His enemies whisper in the dark.
The music of the forest entices,
Trembling through his pulsing slippers.
Marrow and freedom meet silently.
Woodlands create cathedrals.
As always, he kneels to no one.
His eyes trace your outline,
Though he sees far behind you.
Forevermore, he beckons no one.
Silence is his cradle.
The stars are his companions.
Forever the King of Solace, he remains.
(k.b.)
August 7. 2014
8.06PM // Thurs.
 |
| THE STAG'S CROWN |
