Once upon a time, long ago lived a breed of people
who lived in huge tress, with canopies of buildings and houses
and inside the trees which they knew as their homes, inside the bark
that shut them from the rain outside and the sky above them.

The barks seemed to glow from the inside, for inside each tree there rested a
magical Idiot Box, which this breed of people enjoyed.
They said that the Idiot Box had arms warm enough to hug everyone,
a voice soothing enough to make everyone listen,
and a face fair enough to make everyone stop once in a while
and look away from the sky and the rain,
and almost for a while, to look away from all the pain.

The pain came from outside the Jungle, although some pain existed within as well,
Some of these people shouted of it, but sadly no one would listen to them.
The voice of their protests wasn’t soothing enough as the music that the Idiot Box played,
Their angry crying faces weren’t pretty like those of the stars in the Box,
and their arms, tired from all the protesting,  weren’t half as warm as the hugs of the Box.

But their shouts and cries did reach inside the trunks, making some of the people
listen to the shouts.
They climbed out of their barks, into the wet muddy ground to look
for the protestors’  whereabouts.
Finding  their way below the thick canopy and amongst the dark it created underneath,
they finally found the distant gleams of the torches that  the protesters held.

They sat down in the wet muddy ground to find out why these people,
outside of their warm barks, stood in the cold of the everlasting rain
and why didn’t they just get new barks if old ones were broke,
and get an Idiot Box and watch it again.

The torch-bearers told these fellow bark-ers of all the pain in the Jungle outside,
of the truths and tales unheard of before, stories that the Box always hides.
The bearers told the bark-ers of the wars that happened, outside the Jungle in other Jungles,
they told them of all the animals, and how
they marched into other Jungles.

They told the bark-ers of how the animals broke the barks of other Jungles,
and hurt the other breeds of the people there.
The bear-ers showed them the linear marches of the beasts onto
the foreign lines, onto the other Green Land.

At the horrid news, the bark-ers ran scared,
running back with the borrowed torches to their own homes,
to tell the other people of the other jungles that fell
and also wondered who would even listen to them,
how would they even begin to compel.

Surprisingly enough when they came back, the other bark-ers stood there
Like the Bearers on their own, holding their own torches  with their headbands shining
orange in the light
They were heard sloganeering something that heard like
‘’ For our jungle we must fight ! “

The running bark-ers came to those who bore the saffron burning torch,
and told them of the wars beyond the roots.
“ That is where we’re going’’ said those with the bands on their heads,
“ Our Jungle is under attack from the Green Land, we must send off animals,
our barks wemust protect’’

The bark-ers who just returned were shocked and they said of the true tales of how
it was their own Jungle that launched the war on the other woods and roots,
for the bearers showed them the fire ablaze,
that burned that the distant woods beyond the borders,
and the unseen horrors that came to their gaze.

The leaders of the headbands  proclaimed
“The bear-ers are liars of course, that’s why nobody ever listened to them ‘’,
“ But we saw the animals marching to the woods, ruining the
Green Land  around the horizon.
The Bear-ers showed it and we saw it with our eyes,
you have to stop, this can’t go on ‘’ cried one of the barkers

who returned

But it was too late, the headbands marched forwards,
without paying heed to any warnings of the  bark-ers who returned.

The leader of the headbands marched ahead,
and shouting back he said,
“ We’re going to war, and you’d too if you cared.
We’re the victims, the Green land attacked first.
Believe it, that’s what the Idiot Box said’’

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From the Origin of time many rise and fall like winter weeds, My identity could not be revealed by anyone, My identity could only be revealed if you know me well. There isn't any great mystery about me. What I do is glamorous and has an awful lot of white-hot attention placed on it. But the actual work requires the same discipline and passion as any job you love doing, be it as a very good pipe fitter or a highly creative artist.


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