Bison

A cloud descends from the sigh of a beast Covering the valley with a steaming thick mist A hundred years after his charge in a stampede The tremors reverberate the spirit in his hide A hard pillow on a bed of thorns I toss and turn on mystical horns I lay blind my days out of sight Struck by thunder a prey unto the night A lifetime nailed to the wall I free fall To a nightmare of blood and gall A silver stare explodes into an endless chase A spiked claw scratches my final resting place