Deseret

up among the sand-stones,
skirted by debris, which
flank the sandy wash-bed
and spotty grey-green trees

deep inside this canyon,
high upon a shelf,
hidden under over-hang,
and sitting by itself

a trek along the single-track,
dirty dusty ledge —
inside a little al-cove
put your back to broken edge

upon a rough-hewn pedestal
a simple skull of stone
and on its carven fore-head
find a single word alone

placed upon this shelf of rock
deep in canyon-lands
consecrated secret rite
placed by Elder hands

in strange script, engraved, a seal,
a token of Young's regret —
an idol to their dead ideal,
is written “𐐔𐐯𐑅𐐨𐑉𐐯𐐻”