She is delight. She is grace. She is the embodiment of the solemn play that is life.
The palm tosses in a summer storm, and still she sways, her hands telling the story of her unimportant birth and her wonderful, imminent death. The grass skirt flirting with her hips, her hooves twinkling in the sand, the ecstasy of movement—it all speaks of a joy, a gratitude.
That the universe has blessed her with this tiny, fleeting, destined-to-be-unmourned-and-unremembered portion of existence! She can't contain herself. She must dance!
Addendum: Another Hawaiian pig waiting to enact the most glorious rite ever. 
No comments:
Post a Comment