The Beast

Their cries from distant shores resound
as the fathers called from yonder rougher ground
“Sons! Leave your beach, cross the river, brave the waves!
Lest the beast lay you in an early grave.”

Alas, their fears fell on muted ears;
instead the sons, with all their wood, built simple spears,
bared them bravely, beat their breasts,
staying far away from the waves deadly crests.

“The shores of our fathers are not for us,
their beaches barren, their forests fruitless.
See how the colors are dull and dreary.
See how the crossing made our fathers weary.
What danger waits that we cannot combat?
Our weapons sharp, ready to attack.
Courage and bravery we do not lack.”

But, at heart, the sons shook with trepidation,
always anxious at the rivers constant motion;
they saw men carried by its charging current
to the infinite beyond, to the endless ocean.

So the sons stayed on their bounteous beaches,
willing to brave the beast they had never seen,
but scared of the river which flowed within their very reach
’till came the day the foreboding fathers had foreseen.

Their cries from distant shores resound,
as the beast knocked their prideful weapons to the ground,
and no son escaped, for they had built neither boat nor oar,
as their fathers watched, mournfully, from the safer shore.

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