Thud Thud Thud, the sound the mighty beast, like thunder.
Crinkle Crinkle Crinkle, of the sound of the small creatures stalking, like firecrackers
“Crunch Crunch Crunch,” says the mighty beast, grazing the fields, like a harvester.

Wind blows, hides the scent of the small creatures,
vague sunlight on the mighty beast and the small creatures,
the small creatures twitch with uneasy motions as peace fills the mighty beast.

Alone, the mighty beast grazes,
alone, the mighty beast eats,
alone, the old mighty beast stands.

The creatures lie for their chance,
The mighty beast gazes without worry in the fields,
The Mighty beast proves its might.

Oh how the small creatures strikes, with stone tools in hand,
Oh how the mighty beast roars, in pain as it fights the small creatures with it’s mighty strength,
Oh how the small creatures flees, as the mighty beast roars as it reigns supreme.

Mighty beast stained red,
mighty beast in pain,
mighty beast on top.

Small creatures return to their homes defeated,
small creatures ready for another chance at another mighty beast,
small creatures cry in pain and in loss.

The small creatures see young mighty beast,
they remember the old mighty beast they fought,
They fix their mistakes, and win their food.

The mighty old beast did not leave,
the mighty old beast bathed in victory and blood,
the mighty old beast that reigned supreme.

It did so with a prideful roar...
as it layed silent...
at it’s final victory.