The Matador

Like music entering the room low and slow,
like a thief in the night.
Turning abruptly and announcing its presence with a shout!
Like The Matador to a bull.
Dirt still falling in slow motion,
Anticipating returning to dirt.
The Matador could stand there forever, chest out,
confident and beautiful.
Holding out His cape like a gift.
Frustrated the bull can only react finitely,
with anger and confusion.
The bull, like your heart,
sees the gift of The Matador as a threat.

The bull charges.

Kicking up dirt and dust, bouncing off hooves and dirt and legs.
The Matador waits patiently to pierce the heart.
The bull kicking up more and more dirt with growing frustration and speed.
A fight that has gone on and on and on...
Only this time the heart of the soul is pierced
and the gift of The Good Matador is no trick.
The pierced heart brings life.
The bull no longer seeks to kick the dirt.