Run, rat, run! Run as fast as you can. You must run to earn your bread! If you stop running, You will earn nothing And you won’t be able to get fed. Run, rat, run! Run early in the morning Or run late into the night. Either wake up before Mr. Sun Or wake up with the Man in the Moon For you cannot afford respite. Run, rat, run! You’re the best runner we have! The most successful racer by far! Keep running at this pace And you just might win the race! Thank you for giving us all that you are. Run, rat, run! What’s this? You want extra crumbs? Proposturous! Utterly ridiculous! You’re not even that speedy And you’re already being greedy. You cannot possibly be serious. Run, rat, run! Don’t slow down now Though you puff and you pant for air. If you keep running You will stop foolishly thinking That this life isn’t right or fair. Run rat run! Don’t stop now! You must run all day, all night long! If you really hope to thrive And you really want to survive You must continue to run strong!...
Once upon a time, there was a moth. Each day, she would fly
around a little garden and drink nectar from all the beautiful flowers. It was
her favorite thing to do.
One day, when she was flying about the garden, she saw a
little bee who flew from flower to flower without getting any nectar. The bee
landed on each flower, inspected it, shook his head, and then moved on to the
next.
Curious, Moth flew up to the bee, who was now inspecting a
violet flower. “Excuse me, Bee. I don’t mean to intrude, but why are you
shaking your head at every flower you land on, and why haven’t you drunk any
nectar?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Bee asked. “None of the flowers I have
landed on are good. They are all ugly and bad.”
“Whatever do you mean?”
Bee pointed to each flower he had landed on in turn. “That
flower over there has one petal missing. That flower has a missing leaf. That
flower is tilting too far to the left. The other is not the right shade of blue;
it’s much too dark. That foxglove has too many purple spots. And as for this
one, which I am sitting on right now, this one has too many tendrils!” He shook
his head. “None of these flowers are beautiful, as they should be.”
“But they are beautiful,” Moth said. She pointed to each
flower in turn. “That flower does have a missing petal, but it has several
others and it’s as yellow as the sun. That flower does have one leaf missing,
but it’s as white as a cloud. That flower is leaning slightly to the left, but it’s
as red as a rose. That blue flower is darker than most of its kind, but it’s
unique, like a midnight sky. That foxglove does have lots of purple spots, but
it goes so well with its cream color. And as for this one, which we are sitting
on right now, it does have lots of tendrils, but it’s just like the rest of its
kind, and it’s a wonderful shade of violet.
“Even if the flowers do not look exactly the way you might
want them to, all of them are truly quite beautiful and I assure you they all
have delicious nectar.”
Bee tsked. “Of course it would all taste good to you.
You moths have crude tastebuds compared to us bees. Our senses
are keener than yours. None of the flowers here are beautiful, and none of them
are perfect, therefore their nectar isn’t perfect either. The nectar must be as
terrible as the flowers are ugly.”
Moth sighed. “Suit yourself. Farewell, Bee.”
Bee nodded curtly. He left the garden, ever searching for
the perfect flower all the day long.
Moth flew on to each and every flower within the garden,
admiring their beauty and enjoying their nectar all the day long.
.png)
Comments
Post a Comment