image/png | Jun 15, 2024 at 3:33 PM | 34 edition(s)

There was a lion that never learned how to use its teeth or its claws, At the first shadow of a snake it jumped and mewed and pawed, Shaking inside, just a frightened little mouse, But that shadow was just a stick, how silly he looks, how ridiculous, The lion sighs, “I never needed to learn how to fight, Upon my flesh a simple stick will not bite,” The lion laughed and rested for the night, Dreaming away and drifting through memories, In front of him a whole circus he sees. He saw himself a great ringmaster, all around they dance and sing, He held a hat and a cane, And truly believed it was for him they sang. “When I wake up, I will be the one holding the stick” He believed. But when morning broke those singers turned to birds in the trees. And it turned out it was not for him at all that music was playing. In anger he roared, “Where’s my stick?!” He sauntered over and picked it up, hoping to reclaim his cane. But wait, it was more scales than he had imagined, not hard at all. It was the snake after all, and it bit deeper with a poison that felt like fire coursing through his veins, more pain than he had ever imagined, his blood turned to flames. The lion roared… and then… collapsed. The bird’s songs went on, and day past into night and time passed. The snake had waited for its chance, throughout the night, It did wait and wait for the lion to grab the bait. Adapted from the fable by Aesop ~ by Laurence Fuller @laurencefuller