Horns of Markhor

High in the rugged, silent peaks, where whispers of the wind do call,

The markhor stands with regal grace, its horns a testament to all.

Twisting, spiraling towards the sky, like ancient tales in nature’s script,

Each curve, a mark of battles past, of triumphs in the harsh terrain,

A symbol of resilience strong, in lands where only few remain.

With eyes that pierce the distant blue, and hooves that grip the jagged stone,

For in its horns, the mountains speak, of strength and beauty intertwined,

A creature of the wild's embrace, with legends in its spirit lined.