The Sacred Cow of Society

In the temple of tradition,
the sacred cows graze,
cloaked in rituals,
their bells clanging like alarm clocks,
demanding reverence for the mundane,
as we bow before the altars of the “way it’s always been,”
fattened on unquestioned beliefs.

Behold the holy grail of nine-to-five,
where dreams are sacrificed on the altar of routine,
and the faithful kneel,
chasing the golden calf of stability,
while the clock ticks,
mocking our devotion with each passing hour.

We paint our faces with the colors of conformity,
marching in parades of polite smiles,
as the sacred cows moo their mantras,
“This is how it must be!”
But who chose this herd mentality
that binds us in chains of sameness?

Let us dance in the fields of the absurd,
where the cows prance in tutus,
and the priests of progress juggle contradictions,
sipping from cups of irony,
as the congregation giggles nervously,
afraid to disturb the sanctity of their beliefs.

Behold the sacred scripts,
words etched in stone,
yet, like sandcastles, they crumble,
as the tide of change rolls in,
and we laugh at the pretense,
the solemnity of outdated dogma.

So let us tip over the altars,
cast aside the sacred cows,
and raise our voices in joyous rebellion,
for in the chaos of destruction,
we find the seeds of creation,
and the absurdity that fuels our freedom,
the glorious, messy dance of life.