🦅 Another One Bites The Dust 🦅

🦅 "The Grace of Vultures" 🦅
They do not chase, they do not cry,

But rise in circles through the sky,

A quiet dance, both high and wide,

Where wind becomes their only guide.

No colors bright, no songs to sing,

Just shadows on a weightless wing.

Yet still they move with solemn art,

A hush that humbles every heart.

They do not hunt for glory's sake,

But tend the world that others break.

They gather where the wild things end.
Not killers, but a kind of friend.

To rot and ruin, they are grace,

The ones who leave no wasted place.

They clean the bones, restore the ground,

And vanish without touch or sound.

So spare your scorn, your fear, your frown—

The vulture wears no bloody crown.

It bears a role both dark and pure,

A keeper of the Earth's contour.

With wings that trace the dying light,

They turn decay to quiet rite.

And though the world may look away.
The vulture keeps the dark at bay.