Dead Animals

Let the feast begin. Like games. Everything is lost in the act, an act of fascination. I see dead animals. There they lay. Peaceful creatures, nothing left to fear, if fear they ever felt. Birds and a small tiger cat and The Ant Brigade. I didn't have anything to do with most of it, maybe they were hit by cars, or maybe they fell from the sky somehow. Think about it. How do these things happen, and what were the last thoughts or feelings of these creatures? They look so calm and gentle and utterly beautiful, just there, motionless. Exquisite. Until the carcasses attract the attention of other animals, fit to burst, to feast on the rotting body. The whole story, from start to finish, sublime as it is.

And what of us? Snip snip, cutting the body, that bloody world inside, and the bleeding outside. One day we will all die. For now apreciate the body, appreciate the love we can shower one another with, appreciate the stars, because we do not know that they sparkle for any reason other than us.