A Riddle

A Riddle

 

In a field there lay

haphazardly spread-eagled

a man.

Unmoving, unbreathing, un…

 

Beyond the reach of wax-like grasp

a parcel rests.

Neat, compact, pre-wrapped.

 

Around this scene of unknown death

though muddied is the ground

no footfall may be observed

nor any other sign

of external interference.

 

What, I ask, has here transpired?

What this the consequence of?

How did this hero of our story

end up, face down,

          lying in a field?

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