Dawn

[Golden Applesauce]

A blazing dawn arrives.  Soldiers in red drag the little man out of his comfortable hole and stare him into the endless sun.  Should he fear his shadow?  It is the choice twixt a thousand more years of blissful stagnation or radiant life.  The revolution is over, the opposition assimilated, the truth ingested but not understood by the filthy horde.  The shepherd watches the flock, yoking them with love and tenderness to the slaughter.  The sheep are free to do as they please so long as they please to please the flock and the shepherd.  The shepherd is free to do as he wishes so long as he wishes to keep the flock content.  But in the dankest forgotten corner of their little cabbage-patch minds rumbles the meanest sliver of thought: Is this all that there is?  For a sheep can never be anything but a sheep, excepting perhaps a pork chop, and a shepherd is a shepherd is a shepherd.  But a man!  A man can be whatever he has the will to forge himself into.  For the beauty is this: A man is nothing less than a sheep with the courage to stand on his own two legs and drink in great vistas.  A man is nothing less than a sheep, who, spotting the sunrise, resolutely strides to the horizon to welcome in the blazing dawn of freedom.

In the harshest desert grows a beautiful flower, sweet and soft to those who can push through its serrated barbs.  Freedom is still there for the one with the heart to reach out and seize it.  Your life lies but ahead of you if only you would seek it out.  A new day is dawning, and today only heroes will be permitted.  A great saga is about to begin, and now is the time to claim your rightful role as its protagonist.

Or kill me.  Give me the one death rather than a thousand thousand little sheep moving with there little spirits and little minds in a thousand thousand little circles, each step taken with four legs a long cut upon my bared breast, each stupid sigh of contentment a fuming vial of sulphur poured across the wound.  Spare me the sight of a thousand thousand infant men strangling themselves in their own cradles!

The revolution may over, but you are here.
It only takes one.

[Mesozoic Mister Nigel]

 

[Requia ☣]

Huh... I like.