Checkmate You Lose
Do you tremble,
as the monstrous cadence,
of the rhinoceros' stride reverberates,
like the buffalo's onslaught?
Vipers at the water's edge,
darting hither and thither,
not above but beneath the surface,
their sinuous silhouettes fabric of nightmares, tearing sinew from skeleton,
swifter than their colossal marine brethren.
It carries weight,
this significance,
but how burdensome,
must it be to crane necks heavenward,
rather than cast them into the chasm,
of their looming oblivion,
demanding their torment,
for the paltry cost of enlightenment,
of suffering,
of metamorphosis.
This panacea,
I must admit,
with a hint of consternation,
a scrap of straw,
is all your bovine critter consumes.
Inked in raw matter,
the abyss loses its essence,
so what lexicon must I now spin,
to shatter your self absorption's daydream?
The shock resides not in the descent,
but in the startling velocity,
at which the earth surges to greet you.
Copyright © Beatrix Macabre | Year Posted 2024
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