simply bone and bodied beasts in new day's fortune
by David B. King (2004)


Before it struck there was no warning;
Only the gentle breeze of life blowing between the mountains,
While the bone-and-bodied beasts continued striding into morning,
Complete with rising sun; shifting tides; new day’s fortune;
New day’s glory;
And death.

Greatest were the strides of the brachiosaurus,
Who moved with fellow kin; father and sister and friend alike,
Between the trees which grew from sun into new day’s fortune,
Upon the grasses green; before their hanging;
Before their own execution;
And now blinded.

Loudest were the steps of the tyrannosaurus,
Who hunted with the blowing breeze of this final night,
Between rock of past and sand of future and new day’s fortune,
His teeth stained red; his time come ‘round;
Come ‘round to save him;
And to end him.

Silent was the breathing of the parasauralophus,
Who slept now in the fields of green; companion at right side,
Not knowing but the dreams that lay ahead and new day’s fortune,
Not knowing the last dream was upon them;
Their last dream was tonight;
And it was here.

Quiet were the cries of the triceratops as her body tumbled out of sight;
Quiet were the screams of her children as they bled in the night,
Unaware of their own place, their own size in the new day’s fortune,
Ignorant to the beauty of the fires that burned them;
The fires carried by the breeze of the night;
And still they cried.

Silent now were the saurapods as their long necks were tied tightly;
And grounded now were the flyers; the climbers; and their height;
Screaming now were the runners who saw death in the new day’s fortune;
And unheard were the final beating breaths of the brachiosaurus,
Whose body hung lifeless, now nothing but bone;
And it shattered.

Softest were the deaths of the unborn velociraptors,
Who knew not of the terror; the murder; the new day’s fortune,
Who would know not the taste of meat, of flesh; but knew the smell of blood
Which flowed across the burning grasses – straight to the garden of God,
Whose boredom had gotten the best of Him, it seemed,
And ended them all.

Safest were the swimmers, the crawlers, and the small,
Who found breath in blood and fallen broken tyrannosaur;
And safest were the plants who did not burn yet saw the death surround them;
Who grew from the battered bone-and-bodied beasts in new day’s fortune;
Who grew above the burning skulls of triceratops and brachiosaur,
Above blackened flesh of stegosaurus and pteranadon,
And carried their souls - to the hands of God.