The death of the depth.
It’s blood for the purpose of annual celebration.
It is killed because it is strong.
Killed because it is beautiful and untouchable.
So marvelous is the bull that the other creatures kill it to show how amazing they themselves are.
They worship the kill.
They worship it’s beauty.
They worship it’s death.
As I am Taurus watch me bleed.
See who rose by stabbing me. . .