The Coward Man Is
Isn't it funny, the coward man is...
Calls himself the apex predator...
Yet scared as a puppy he'll wizz...
Without his hand held terminator...
We fight bulls and cry glory...
While we blind and maim...
To ensure our victory...
By crippling till lame...
Big cats and bears...
Detoothed and declawed...
For he who dares...
To pit dog to be mauled...
Standing with aim from afar...
In the distance his quarry stands proud...
Earths growing battle scar...
His fanfare to the cheering crowd...
If man was no coward...
He'd face this beast alone...
Moving ever forward...
With a dulcet tone...
He'd need no tool of death...
His awe would tenfold...
At the width and breadth...
Of the beauty that nature does hold...
Oh what cowards we are...
To feel superior if only...
We hold the card...
That makes the wild so lonely...
But what greatness we'd have...
To lower and humble ourselves...
At the mighty beasts grave...
Our grief would turn sand to salve...
We cowards that kill...
Abuse and defile and destroy...
And yet this earth will ever still...
Give life to all manner of girl and boy...
So cowards, it is time...
To stand tall and throw off...
The mantle without spine...
And say, today it's enough...
We cowards that were...
Shall kill no thing...
Resurrect and prosper...
All that is living ...
And cowards no more...
We of human race...
Shall love all score...
Of sentient trace...
Copyright © Sean Taylor | Year Posted 2015
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