- May 19
- 0 min read
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- May 15
- 1 min read
A litter of bones, yes
But never a painting
Or a word
Have the animals left us
And so, we say,
The animals do not carry with them
A history of understanding us
To pass down
As we pass on our words and myths.
In our stories they are
The ones who have hunted us
The ones who we've wiped away
In our stories
We speak of their bravery
And the love they have displayed
But how do they know us:
We creators and destroyers
Who rampage and rearrange the world
Who cut down all before us
Are they in awe of our power?
Or do they just know us as
The monsters who cry tears
They may just know us
As the ones who cry tears
- May 15
- 0 min read
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