Greetings all,

Just had some inspiration of a type the other month, and while I usually
limit my prose and poetry to less grand a scale, I thought it would be
appropriate to post this little one here, as I think it addresses
something thats been on alot of minds. Sooo, here it is:


There once was a youngin' from Velin,
His name was quite nice, it was Caelin.
He loved to wander, fish and hunt,
Though admittedly he was a bit of a runt.
And had a habit of daydreamin'.

Now one day as he meandered around,
He heard a horrible terrible sound.
He screeched a loud, "EEP!",
In the air he did leap.
Dropping everything he carried on the ground.

And who comes along but a grand city leader,
Picking up what was dropped and being a goober.
Refusing point blank to have any honor,
And if the youngin' had fought for it,
He would of been a long goner.


The real moral of the story here,
Is that if you feel you have the power dear.
Why be at all honorable to those around,
Or hold your own supposed morals above ground?
Its just easier to push little ones down.

I say, to all those that will listen,
Grow up, before you find your fingers and heads missin'!



Hope I made a few of ya think, and the rest of you chortle a bit,
Its my job after all, *wink*
Fylena

Penned by my hand on the 7th of Halitus, in the year 503 AD.