At first, it was just a word. A
very, small word. An interesting word, but tiny in comparison to other, loftier
words. However, it was content. The word had no worries, no needs and most of
all it was quite happy being a small word.
But alas, without meaning to,
small things can become great things at the least expected of times. The small
word was no exception. Its importance grew. Its fame exceeded its small size.
It became like many things before it, bigger than it might have intended to be.
It became the strength on which entire nations rose. The hope which many
desperately clung to. It became a bastion of happiness and joy that many people
wanted so much to be a part of.
It became an idea.
This small word marveled at its
new status, wondering where this would take it. Strange worlds were now open to
it. Incredible dreams were revealed to it. And the word was unafraid.
Now, we all know that among the
most dangerous things in the world, nothing was more so than an idea. It was
infectious. It was driven. It was nearly impossible to kill. It changed the
world around it in ways both amazing and terrifying. The small word soon became
something to fear.
It became a threat.
Soon, the entire world fought for
power over this small word. Some would defend it, while others would seek its
destruction. People lived and died over the small word. People killed because
of this small word. And the word was frightened.
Pulled hither and yon, its
existence became the foundation on which innocents were tread upon. Flames
would lick at the word, and water would cool it. For a long time, the word
begged for mercy. It pleaded for peace and kindness to return. Sometimes, the
cries were heard and tranquility reigned. But the peace was always short-lived.
The word wept at its new fate. The word shed tears at the lives that were lost
for its sake. Then one day, the unthinkable happened.
It became a pariah.
People clamored to be free of its
yoke. To cast off its constrictions. They fought amid the din and clamor of
swords and slogans, and sought to destroy the small word however they could.
After a costly battle, the people won. The small word was defeated. Weakened
and defenseless, the word was quickly locked away, never to be free again.
It became a prisoner.
Quietly, the land world
recovered. Gardens grew, and streams trickled. Children laughed and played. The
sun even peeked through the dark clouds that once fully covered the land.
Meanwhile, the word slept in its cage, shedding only silent tears. It curled up
into a ball and shut the world out, and wrapped itself with its lost dreams. No
one noticed. No one cared.
One day, someone passed the cage
and noticed that the word wasn't there anymore. What had happened to it, no one
could tell. People searched everywhere for the word. They looked in the caves,
and the dark corners, but it could not be found. They looked beyond cliff-sides
and in the places few dared tread. It was not there. After a long search, the
people grew tired and gave up. The world was at peace finally and they were
content at last. The small word was left alone.
But if you listened to the
laughter of the children and the sound of the rivers. If your face was dappled
by the sun in the sky, you might notice the word, wings outstretched in joy,
sharing its happiness where ever it went.
It became a butterfly.
The word, its wings made of paper
leaves filled with thoughts and ideas, was again free. The word was a place
where dreams were kept to be shared with others. A place where magic was alive
and lands were revealed. It was a place where time had no meaning and was the
place where time passed quietly. It was free to shed its cocoon of anger and
fear and sadness. It became just a small word again. Nothing more, and nothing
less.
The word was a book.
And it was happy. |
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