Aurauris
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When Clutching Much, Possessing Naught (A short, original Fable) Not so long ago, and not so very far away, There once ran a River through the tall-grass glade. Neighbors, he had three: The closest, Creek; the flighty Bourn; and beyond, the worn and ancient Sea. River, after recent rain, swelled particularly bubbly and bright; Birds sought leafy shade, wind skipped through the grass, and his clear stream glinted with light. How merry the murmur of his waters! How full his banks! 'Wouldn't it be nice to always feel this swift and full of life?' thought River, giving thanks. Perhaps there was a way to never thirst again, he mused. And lifting his bed with a great, sharp SNAP! dirt slipped down the stream, a dam soon to accrue. A little higher, the dam each day. A little rounder, his rump did sway. Thirsty, thirsty, thirsty was the first to speak: 'Where's the water gone?' cried Creek. 'My grass, it crumbles! My daisies, drooped and low — And if there's been a single drop, well, there's nothing here to show!' River, afluster, managed to muster a reply both low and meek: 'I-I've no idea of what you mean,' then quick behind the rising dam, refuge did he seek. Despairing Creek threw up her hands, bid brittle banks adieu, and moved down south with Sea. Yes, things were going quite well for River; through his gullies, water gurgled constantly. Brimming over in his girth each day — (Do we dare to call him Pond?) — Over his lush, leafy saplings and resilient green grasslings, our swelling River does fawn. But in the rise of summer's heat, much to the stream's dismay, Carefully gathered waters begin to wisp away. His treasure, vanished! A frantic, hardened heart in turn firmed soils down below. And so the glade began to die, when no water there could flow. A plump Pond still, though dwindling swift, just didn't seem to see How the dry, sandy base of a weighty dam trembled precariously. From thence it took but a single swell of rainwaters flowing strong To topple the mighty act of Greed in a rush of mud and dust swept along. Drained dry of his wealth, bled to naught but a Trickle, River wept for days to come. Oh, to be merry and burbling free! — had he only contented to share waters with everyone.
< Message edited by Aurauris -- 9/15/2013 9:31:00 >
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