Beauty in the Beast
Are they tiger-moth’s wings or predator’s eyes?
Or even things in the mouth of a tiger in disguise?
Either way, can't hide the beauty in the beast.
For what was a ‘kill’ became ‘game’ and then got bar-coded and inhumane
And now it’s plastic-packed into 20-foot long freezer frames.
Until it’s hard to find the beauty in the beast.
Who hunts whom now? The question is
Now that man is not just the hunter king of all beasts,
But also the farmer of his own species?
Is there -after all this evolution- no compassion solution?
But rather exploitation packed into shopping cart illusion?
Let’s try to find the beauty in the beast.
‘Cause one day our demise could be marked by the sound of fluttering wings
And the buzzing of bees sharpening their stings
Taking flight from dark corners to multiply in the sun
as they once did long ago, before we had ever begun
To exist… like the beauty in the beast.
Copyright © Francisco Rebollo 2014