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Poem

He saw the noble beast collapse in blood and dirt, 
Lashed by the owner’s cruel and ruthless crop
He rushed to cradle its head upon his stained coat, 
And wept with sorrow that choked his broken heart.

He shared the pain of the majestic steed, 
He cursed the world, its deceits, and all its sin. 
He knew the truth was far beyond his reach, 
He felt his faith, belief & reason crumble within.

For wasn’t he / the voice of the unfathomed deep - 
Questioning / God and all ancient morality. 
Dreaming / of will, and power, and ecstasy, -
Sparking / and de-catechizing minds / with originality.

But in that moment he was just a simple man 
Who loved a lamb more than his Übermensch. 
Who gave up his mind for one last act of sanity 
Who became a mythical hero despite his Mensch.

The sacrificial lamb with a final breath doth whisper - 
...“”Dionysus, The Crucified” - I am…your Zarathustra””

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