They asked me, they asked me, what did I see, what will happen, please tell us more?
I could not explain how my thoughts were arranged, I could not tell them what would remain if things stayed the same. I could not say, who was to blame. Because I too am stuck, center square of this game. And for this the herald came.
“A double minded man is unstable in all his ways.” This the herald began to say. “Always fighting to have and fighting against having not. Greed and worry, those worms of furry, burrowing into their heads until their minds rot. Man against man, husband against wife, brother against brother, a fight’s what’s become of life, drowning in a sea of strife, pointing fingers pointing out those they declare to be naughty and those they declare nice.”
The herald rails, “Bring me to the gates of hell”, and that is when the great and mighty book fell.
The dust scattered as the great and mighty book appeared, the “nice” took hold first, they made sure the naughty were nowhere near. “The problem is not ours,” the nice declared, “It’s the poor, the sick, they lame, the colors, and the queers. We’ll create a god in our image, and then this god will become our greatest weapon, and will instill the greatest of fears. We’ll tell them the mighty book is ours, and it’s truth only we can hear.” And this is how it was, how it has been, the nice controlling the naughty for hundreds, if not thousands of years.
But the herald screamed, his voice carried into the great and noble sea, from the dead woods he was heard screaming, “The time is now, to breaks free. You’ve been blind long enough it’s time to see. Look at your chains, ignorance, pride, hate, arrogance, worry and fear, it’s time to see those chains clear. A clever serpent your ignorance has reared. And so the nice became the naughty’s enemy, they were tired of being fired, and from their traditions, conditions and warnings they had listened to for too many years, worrying if they did not follow they would lose the eternal life they held dear, away from all of this the naughties steered.
“Occupied, occupied,” the herald cries, “Occupied, occupied my people are, by hateful lies. Occupied, occupied, to busy to see, what is keeping them from being free. Faith in paper idols, in men of golden suit. Occupied, occupied, the “nice” rape them, they murder, they intimidate, they steal and they loot. Pointing each other in opposing directions, demanding they listen or receive their correction, promising riches if they stand at attention.”
Then the book was opened, words hidden beneath layers of filth and dirt. The herald held his hands up for the rain to do its work. Droplet after droplet, first separate and apart, rolling aimlessly toward each other like a blind man in the dark. The more that fell, the more could be seen. The droplets gathered together and made the mighty book clean. The naughty came together and finally understood what the great book means.
“Occupied, Occupied, we will no longer be,” they screamed. “You made the great book dirty but we have made it clean.”
The naughty then became the nice, and the nice they called the naughty. They said, we will do things different, we won’t be like the naughty, who once was called nice. We will be a new generation one that takes what we deserve, a new generation of nice. You can be with us, if you give us, what we deserve, we demand equal rights. But both the naughty and nice could not truly see the great book in its true light.
The great book then became a burden, even though it was light. They thought they were different, they certainly had different sight. But they only chose to read the great book in the dark of night.
“Occupied, Occupied,” the herald gave a shout. “Occupied, Occupied, having a better answer is not what the great book is about.” The herald took the book away, as the naughty and the nice began to say, “White is Black, Black is white, there is no gray!”
The trash piled high on either side. They began to beat each other, each with their bats of pride. This is when the herald cried.
“Occupied, occupied, this will you both remain to be. Prisoners of paper which reads in God we trust and promises liberty. Occupied, occupied, for your unjust cause, fighting to control a system of corruption that was only built to fall. I see murder in the streets and cries of blood. I see armies descending on the nice and naughties like the waters of a flood. I see fire, and crying, I see hurt and great pain. Why are you fighting for a corrupt system that will only bring you the same. You’ve put your faith in democracy, and have believed corruptions spin. Battles and rattles in the sewers of ignorance, this is your sin. Occupied, Occupied, soon marshal law, earthquakes, and hurricanes knocking on everyone’s door. Cradled in the dead arms of yet another world war.”
But no one listened, no one cared what the warnings were for. They were occupied, occupied, and this is why, when they asked me, I could not tell them more.
“The Truth Will Change You”