May Bull
The may bull charges through the dry field
He stomps the dry, yellow grass into the ground
With his strong, sturdy hooves and heavy body
He leaves a trail of clouds behind him
He glides, the heavens like firm ground under the rhythmic trampling of his hooves
His nostrils are flaring
His eyes two rubies, burning with passion and fire
His gaze is direct, he;s got nothing to hide
You feel the intensity, the concentration, the fury the greed
There's nothing passive about the bull running through the fields with all his might
His gluttonous gaze on the treasures which he pursues after
They burn with concentration
He is focused
His mind is clear
His path is open, not a branch or a stone or a bump in his way
With bull-headed determination he charges on.
He will not stray from the path which he has decided for himself
He will not listen to false truths and lies which are believed to be true
His gaze may burn like fire, but there’s no smoke to blind his gaze
He will not weaken neither his resolve or the force with which he races
It is spring
The flowers begin to awaken and bloom
The sun, like a torch in the sky
And the fires in the hills and the forest, roar with passion and strength.
It is spring
And the bull is running through the sky
His hooves digging into the blackness of the night
And uncovering the heavens.
His horns are heavy and barbed,
A weapon for war, a trophy of power
And a display of the strength that he carries and the peril which may befall those who are tempted to strike at the bull
They lead the way
They show the path which only the May bull can trample and take.
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