Horned Silence

Horned Silence emerges midst the still trees.
Its horn pierces the skull of the condemned;
the spine hangs, still wet with eternal judgment.
The open mouth no longer screams…
but its echo still listens.

"Where autumn dies and flesh remembers, he walks.He is not a rider. He is not a messenger.He is the sentence that needs not be spoken."
— Faded inscription on the bark of a cursed oak