Thoughts of a Dying Dog (Dissipation of Grand Illusions, Part II)

It was on this same fateful and glorious day,
Though Time in its majesty will soon take my breath away,
That I was not long ago galloping through the roadways
With joy in my heart and the sun pouring out its rays.

But then it came, in full flight:
A monstrous beast with great might.
Barrelling, screeching, flying past,
Yet I, realizing the beast’s challenge, would not come last.
Yes, the great marathon-battle would gloriously end
Only when the wheeled beast would bend
Its will to mine.

But lo! an ally of the demon, now disarrayed,
Flew with furious speed to my nemesis’ aid,
Hollering so loudly it was terrible to behold.
But I, like a brilliant, majestic steed of old
Put my head down and charged ahead without fright.
No, I did not go gentle into that good night.

Our heads collided, our bodies shook.
How erroneous, those demons of the road when they mistook
Me for a mere dog, how unaware of my heroic bravery;
For I would never succumb to fear and roadside slavery.
Away we flew, I to one side and it to the other,
The world itself in brilliant motion became but a blur.

So here I lie:
Mortally wounded and prepared to die.
Bones broken, skin ripped,
Resting in a sea of blood that has dripped
From my battered and scrambled head.

This glorious tale of heroic valor and interspecies tension
Is my last testament to those in need of my message of redemption.
Let us all take to the road against the demons that haunt us,
Against their allies and their minions who taunt us.
For this thought, that I can look back and say that I battled well,
That I sent those fiery bastards back to the depths of hell,
Gives meaning to my passing.

But that, though it is an idea most comforting to me,
Does not eradicate my nagging doubts nor indeed the possibility
That I am, after all, just some evolutionarily produced, stupid animal
Who chases cars with tongue a-wagging and brains that are so very minimal.

Yea, I certainly am a fool.
For who lies needlessly in a pool
Of his own blood
And did not bring the tidal flood
Of carnage upon himself?

Mother-dog, I never ceased to love you.
But damn you, and father-dog too,
For conceiving an idiot such as I.
In idiocy I was born, and in idiocy I do die.

So it began and now it ends.


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