He heard outside the terror
Panic-stricken they were running
From the shadow spanning
The swallowing monster

The shapeless evil grew
Touching the rays of the sun
Blinding the village whole
In its nebulous pall

He saw the metamorphosis
Of horns and sheep and humans
Taking the form of all
The cries it swallowed

He felt his time was up
There was nowhere to run
He grabbed his spear to fight
He too was swallowed alive

Twisted rivers
Floating in its belly
Carrying trees
.. And living things

His wounds were deep
Unable to swim
Against the stream
Of destiny

A buzzing orchestra
Of egg laden flies
Awaited him
By the river banks


Standing on the terrain
Made of crocodile skin
He looked across the horizon

Huts stood occupied
With people almost dead
Held together with sutures

He saw teeth in the clouds
Protruding from the sky
Raining Saliva

The pain in his soul
Tears in despondency
Is this the village of the dead?