It ends

It ends in the light once the last bull has run through the gates of the ring where the killing is done. Great Poseidon, we mourn! Sacred beasts, all mistreated have been dispatched from this realm in the end, all defeated. We remember the light and soul in their eyes and the unanswered question we

Is this real life?

To be fair, I never paid much attention to the running of the bulls before.  I remember learning some time ago that, despite the dramatic pictures, there are only six bulls involved in each run; the danger to humans is in fact quite overrated if one considers the sheer number of them in the streets. 

It’s not just bull

Sitting vigil last night, I lingered on the final stanza of the hymn I wrote to Poseidon Taureos: All who feast upon the meat or profit from the sale or leverage the strength or dance between the horns or flee the trampling hoof or seek freedom ‘pon its back owe you a debt Zeus himself