Forged by millenia these hands, these feet, these legs, this brain. Eons of time and the subtle shifts in how we coped with the challenge before us, with survival. A longer this, a shorter that, for better or for worse, the need to reach the treetops? Perhaps a longer neck and strong tongue would prevail. Live under a hot sun? Perhaps a darker tone.

Our own minds, themselves a product of this evolution, turned on their creator – just as Cassiopeia and her blasphemous vanity –  our own minds have built us up to be something bigger than we are, as if our own humble upbringing wasn’t good enough. Who could resist eternal life? Invincibility? The world of animals a dirty stable – this cannot be! Out of the manger and into the throne room.

Worshiping a falsehood, placed  here divine, revering this great big blue ball as a foodie revers a thick slab of bacon – something to devour and flush – out of sight, out of mind. If only Darwin was the Christ. Blasphemer! 

What have we done? What have we done? Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who’s the fairest of them all? A giraffe lays quite and lifeless on the African plain, exsanguinated by too many ticks…say it, exsanguinate…a beautiful word is it not? Such a beauty belies its meaning.

Ahh beauty. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder no? Without doubt. To a fly then, to a fly a turd divine, and a ripe corpse? Well, there are delights in this world that go beyond words. For me, I much prefer the sparkle in those eyes that only life can bring, a life forged through the millenia…and turds? Well lets just say I am no fly, but then again, who am I to judge?