How can this be
what I’ve come to know as me
I was so sure that I would be more
This life a bull and I the matador
but, alas, I could not harm such a noble beast

Their broad shoulders bear their own horizon, a mountainous ridge that both beckons and intimidates. Cloven hooves punctuate the battle ground, sure footed and pacing to display their command of the stage.

Flowers fall from the stands, red petaled rain to honor the harsh brutality made flesh. The horned dawn rises over the beastly horizon to wreak havoc on all that hinder them.

I lay my sword amongst the flowers and offer with it my hubris. May they find me a worthy feast.