Abstract Gawking

Golden vultures eat decayed apples.
Something most don't gawk at.
I do.
Revel in the revelations,
that's what the roots of redwoods say.
Mull in mysteries,
that's what the peak of mountains utter.

I do both while gawking.
I've always admired the bone-eaters,
consider myself the purest one.
But it's baffling,
why do they feast on rotten fruit?
Why do I?

Mull and revel,
not every corrupt consumer does this.
I'm not golden. Keep that.
I'm ethereal, earthly. A sliver of pure abstraction.