Bull-Dancers
He comes. Distantly, bellows echo. Bull. God.
We wait, trembling, awed and silent. Youths. Maids.
Bull-God, galloping ringward, rumbles. What horns!
Palms. Chalk. Sweaty still. Grab the horns and – Heave! Leap!
Land well. Scattering, dodging charges, we flee.
Safe, safe! Holiness touches dancers. We kneel.
Each year, sacrifice blesses those who dare dance.
Flesh. Grace. Touching His power briefly, we fly.
June 25 2008, 16:57:34 UTC 13 years ago
http://www.cs.rice.edu/~ssiyer/minstrels/poems/136.html
Wow!
June 25 2008, 17:00:03 UTC 13 years ago