A BEAUTIFUL LOVE STORY

A traveling party found itself catapulted from inside a long and dark tunnel of a magic forest. There they had a vague memory that when the trip started there were only smaller number of them, perhaps fewer than 10. now, looking around, they were 36, then 70, or perhaps 100, all packed together and looking all identical and rapidly increasing in number if by magic.
Then a sinister game began. Soon they realized they where that bunch landed wads kind of a protective circle inside a prison, that none of them could leave except under the penalty of death. Another problem was that each individual, even inside the delineated safety zone must stay connected with the group for, alone each individual would be immersed in toxic wastes that kill instantly (within second). Finally, and worse, the grace period afforded these involuntary pilgrim was very limited: in 280 days they were to be expelled to be on there own. What to do?
They discovered that, in the confine of strict laws, they have creative power; that they could be and do everything they wanted.
So, first they decided to stick together, live for one another, and use their power of creation always for the benefit of all not for anyone in particular. They cultivated special skills and talent that focus on the collectivity's need. Voluntarily diversifying, some took on the dangerous task of defense, some specialize themselves in looking for food and process it for everybody. Others took on the task of keeping the community clean. They built a most sophisticated portable flee market that moves like a river where everyone indiscriminately finds what they needed for survival. They even created a high tech administration topped by a leadership that cares, comforts, heals, and delegates and inspires. In the end, this small group that started the journey as an anonymous bunch had grown into a model of a most civilized and self-sufficient community. They conquered their present and even planned for the future. When they left the protective forest there was no sorrow but rejoice.

ANOTHER HOLIEST HYMN

I gazed at the morning sun coming from the east
it a very bright and warm morning I told myself ready to deep my feet
into the world.
It is not a joyous day to sing hymns and praises,
nor one of those holiest or the bravest days,
But a twist like a mirror that reflect you to your past.
A drum beat that skipped your heart each time
the clock ticks, for another body is been berried,
while you count your days with fear, tears,
when you see the faces of your loved one.

As we journey together into these unending race,
we are left with ourself to decoy the mysteries and wonders
of our nature, we are yet another dust from soul
of the our maker.
We are the rivers that flows in circle, that cannot be traced
of its beginning or ending.
We are the beast in the forest, the birds on the sky,
mammals and many other history that cannot revealed.

We are ANOTHER HOLIEST HYMNS........