04-22-2013, 08:59 AM
Lying on his bed of blood
the humble lion melts into his death
like a slow, patient sunset. Humble,
then gone.
Primal machine switched on by some playful god,
it thrashed at man and man in his pomposity
branded it savage and pulled a trigger.
Hemingway's in Heaven with animal pelts
lining his Elysium cot.
How much more poetic would his death have been
if a lion had ripped his head off?
the humble lion melts into his death
like a slow, patient sunset. Humble,
then gone.
Primal machine switched on by some playful god,
it thrashed at man and man in his pomposity
branded it savage and pulled a trigger.
Hemingway's in Heaven with animal pelts
lining his Elysium cot.
How much more poetic would his death have been
if a lion had ripped his head off?
"We believe that we invent symbols. The truth is that they invent us; we are their creatures, shaped by their hard, defining edges." - Gene Wolfe