The Parable of the Cows

Year after year
Generation after generation
The cows
Walk up the ramp
And through the swinging doors.

And no cow who
Goes through those doors
Is ever seen again.

I wonder if the cows speculate
Amongst themselves
About the nature of what
Is beyond those doors?

Do learned cows pontificate
And mad cows fulminate
Over the world beyond those final doors?

Do they divide into factions
And argue and feud over it.
Is there excessive shoving
At the food trough?
And snide remarks made
At the water bucket?

As if living six inches deep in manure
In a smelly, over crowded feed lot
Weren’t bad enough
There has to be all this ill will
Over something
The cows know nothing about.


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