2 dinosaurs died long ago.
1 was humble, and meek with a stretchy neck he’d show off to nervous birds while eating leafy roofs.
1 was bold, and stealth. A hunter. He’d never show his strength to anyone unless it was too late for them.
The leafeater saw the world as a great mother. Trees of every size and shape filled endless dreams. Without thorns of bark and buzzy bugs in his eyes, the leafeater had only friends, and sun, and creeks, and a lust for leaves in his face, and naked gratitude. The leafeater knew only how to be a boy. He felt everything he lived. He didn’t believe in dying.
The lion saw the same world as a buffet. Nothing fancy or special. Just enough to live. Everything is bought with blood. The strong of his type are the coldest. They hide in plain sight. They strike alone and finish! There are liabilities and threats. He had stinging teeth and claws like rocks.
They both died long ago
When a fireball exploded
And sent a shockwave across the forest.
And set fire to the skies.
The leaves bit back, giving birth to smoke and ash, determined to rest on the ground or blow free in the red, gray wind.
The victims, like the leafeater, went hungry. They cried, and cringed and got old fast with fists in their stomachs.
First, it was a windfall for the lion. New meat. Then, the meals dried up. He felt nothing. The dinosaur died hunting in search of prey he’d never find.
The lion outlived the leafeater. But they both died in the end. And Life is not a contest to the dead.
They both only served the future. And their dreams lie in mud. All hearts are meant to be broken; their secrets food to the soil, who raised us all here alive now, children.