Poem24

One last snarl of thunder

before we die

one last bellow of wind consumed by flame

a final belch of cosmic significance

the ego is a cow

on it's way to the slaughterhouse of life

a cow with a million eyes

it dies

nauseous and noisy

it is guts and bones ground

to one pink and bloody mass

and all along the treadmill of spinning swords

pictures of sunny fields

and fresh alfalfa

so that things aren't so bad

when the blades go to work