You wonder what the lion said to the boy. That boy who wandered off and formed alliances with the enemy camp. That boy who put the army of our side at risk. That boy who followed his whim and fancy and lusted after the fruit that gleamed by the demented river.
You wonder why the lion's voice sounds soothing and why the lion doesn't roar and destroy that brat on the spot. You wonder why the brook that run besides doesn't form into a roaring waterfall engulfing that boy in a fit of unchained fury.
You wonder why the ravens start gathering around the boy, and instead of picking his hair and eyes out of his head, they bring him meat and bread – food to calm his nerves and silence his chattering teeth.
You wonder why the breeze does not start to pick up and turn into a dust storm caking that ungrateful little soul to fall to his knees and die on that spot. Instead the cool breeze fan his hair and quiet the tensions from his face.
You wonder how the eyes of the lion still gleam ever so brilliantly looking at the face of that boy – despite all that he is and all that he has done.
"the world is behind, and home is ahead..."
The repercussions will take all of our lives. Mine. Yours. His. Her's. The trees will groan, so will the mountains tremble, so will the seas quake uneasily, so will all souls shiver until we are all destroyed. The repercussion of the boy's acts. The repercussions of all of our acts. The repercussions of all of our thoughts. It will have our lives.
But now the lion turns his eyes to you. "The world is behind, and home is ahead..." Let's fight to our last dying breath. Let's run right to the edge of this cliff. Let's go down swinging our swords.
Home is only around the corner.
You wonder why the lion's voice sounds soothing and why the lion doesn't roar and destroy that brat on the spot. You wonder why the brook that run besides doesn't form into a roaring waterfall engulfing that boy in a fit of unchained fury.
You wonder why the ravens start gathering around the boy, and instead of picking his hair and eyes out of his head, they bring him meat and bread – food to calm his nerves and silence his chattering teeth.
You wonder why the breeze does not start to pick up and turn into a dust storm caking that ungrateful little soul to fall to his knees and die on that spot. Instead the cool breeze fan his hair and quiet the tensions from his face.
You wonder how the eyes of the lion still gleam ever so brilliantly looking at the face of that boy – despite all that he is and all that he has done.
"the world is behind, and home is ahead..."
The repercussions will take all of our lives. Mine. Yours. His. Her's. The trees will groan, so will the mountains tremble, so will the seas quake uneasily, so will all souls shiver until we are all destroyed. The repercussion of the boy's acts. The repercussions of all of our acts. The repercussions of all of our thoughts. It will have our lives.
But now the lion turns his eyes to you. "The world is behind, and home is ahead..." Let's fight to our last dying breath. Let's run right to the edge of this cliff. Let's go down swinging our swords.
Home is only around the corner.