Out among the savage places, where Time doth lightly tread, and sun’s rays blind those stars’ shine among the ample boughs, there stalks so broad a beast to trample and rage. It tastes not the succor of meat, nor closes its eye to sleep, nor stops for thirst in the headwaters or springs or lowers its head into the deeps of lakes.
Pawing through the woods of leaves and branches down, or over shoals and shores, or out among the sun baked rocks, out among the mountainous teeth, the beast he travels slowly, or is want to race hot as blood in veins. And yet at times he stops to wait, or backward slides into a den of kin.
Into the night he moans so fiercely, tireless and craving speed. Out against the morning dawn, strikes he against the stones of ballast. Or through the after morn, he unyielding pushes to crush the unwary. Bright his eyes doth shine, yet rigid his path. Unstopping, ever hammering.
Out among the savage places his path doth cross mine.
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