In the beginning of ages, a spell was made into a song.
- THOU SHALL NOT SING THIS SONG.
Whispered loudly a muttered voice.
The song was kept away, always locked in closets.
Neither man nor bird could sing this song, since it was limitless and boundless.
It was a self contained song, in a crowded box, never to be opened or circled, like a rat in a cage.
It was a doomed song in a black box full of mysteries enfolded.
One time, a wolf tried to sing it, since it was a bound made for bird or man, he was immediately hit by a sudden stroke, which made him weaker and weaker, without food, within food, he didn’t survived.
The voice said again in a powerful tone:
- THIS SONG CAN NOT BE SUNG BY ANY SPECIES.
A rose tried to sing it and it became pale and weak and turned itself to ashes in seconds.
The voice muttered loudly once again:
- THEE SHALLT NOT SING THIS SONG.
On Wicked times, in times of harvest, in long lines of people, on a crowded tiny little town; the song was the most precious treasure that they had, the box was well kept on cages and cages and more cages, on a hidden box throughout a tiny space.
The box was red with white stripes, which meant desire and purity.
Throughout words, man and other species could say the words, but not sing them, they could feel it, but the box was hidden and the song became a well kept secret for years, while tears were moistered and finally wept and sunk the box.
- THOU SHALL NOT SING THIS SONG.
Whispered loudly a muttered voice.
The song was kept away, always locked in closets.
Neither man nor bird could sing this song, since it was limitless and boundless.
It was a self contained song, in a crowded box, never to be opened or circled, like a rat in a cage.
It was a doomed song in a black box full of mysteries enfolded.
One time, a wolf tried to sing it, since it was a bound made for bird or man, he was immediately hit by a sudden stroke, which made him weaker and weaker, without food, within food, he didn’t survived.
The voice said again in a powerful tone:
- THIS SONG CAN NOT BE SUNG BY ANY SPECIES.
A rose tried to sing it and it became pale and weak and turned itself to ashes in seconds.
The voice muttered loudly once again:
- THEE SHALLT NOT SING THIS SONG.
On Wicked times, in times of harvest, in long lines of people, on a crowded tiny little town; the song was the most precious treasure that they had, the box was well kept on cages and cages and more cages, on a hidden box throughout a tiny space.
The box was red with white stripes, which meant desire and purity.
Throughout words, man and other species could say the words, but not sing them, they could feel it, but the box was hidden and the song became a well kept secret for years, while tears were moistered and finally wept and sunk the box.
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