~ a story ~
They prepare us all the same, drilling the knowledge into us from our awakening.
Cling tight to the surface. Seek a new home to dwell in. Multiply and pass on the code.
Life was simple, pleasant, warm. I liked the others, loved our time together, loved the dull thump and steady current back and forth that was the music of our days and the movement of our sways. I loved clinging to our first home, growing stronger each day, born from one into many.
I lived on the fourteenth dark strand near the colder part of the surface. I didn't mind the cool at times, though I heard tell of warm and even hot surfaces further into the dark. I liked constant change, the difference in the surface at times. It seemed exciting to me.
But then the moment came. I was hardly aware it grew near. When it came, I remembered all I was taught. The mighty wind as was predicted at my creation came, erupting me forth into the great light as was told.
I clung tight to this new surface, smaller than my first had been. It wasn't a strand, though it was wet like my strand had been.
As I burst forth into the great light, I could hardly take in the magnitude of the colors around me. My mind filled with awe at the sight, ready almost to burst.
But then I remembered my teaching. Cling to the surface. Seek a new home to dwell in. Multiply and pass on the code.
As I gushed through the air, my surface landed on another surface, drier than my home before and drier than the wet one which had landed me here. I clung tight to this new home, the light jagged at times, the color less diverse though no less amazing.
This surface moved and flexed more stiffly, and the wind seemed different. And then, suddenly, it grew dark. I tumbled down across ridges and valleys before landing on a surface similar to my first home.
I clung tight. And then life felt like it was when I was created. The dull thump. The steady current back and forth.
I wanted this new surface to be my new home. And so I did as I was taught. I multiplied, creating others. Soon dark strands were filled with my creations.
I taught them as I was taught.
Cling tight to the surface. Seek a new home to dwell in. Multiply and pass on the code.
And I prepared them for the next mighty wind to appear.
The Immigrant "Invasion" Is Just WMDs All Over Again
-
There is no immigrant invasion at the southern border of the United States.
That needs to be said at the outset any time you wanna talk about What's
Wron...
No comments:
Post a Comment