The bluecoats were a mighty force that held the highland, from the driveway to the dried mud hill near the weeds. They had a town and village and it was made of tuna cans, but their fort made of tin foil, was the pride for all to see. They took up their positions with their plastic weaponry, and in unison, they beheld what they could see. And, they called their mighty plateau “Evermore”, for with their mighty fortress, they would gain immortality, some boy said, I know, some boy said.
Upon a very sunny day, when the air stood still and hot, the bluecoats looked down upon the driveway called a sea. There arose a string of makeshift ships from a cardboard box, with a green army that numbered infinity. The flag that they mustered was cut from old cloth, painted black for misery, and they made their home for war upon their fleet. Stood they tall with axes high, as they looked at “Evermore” said this too belongs to us or so we will see. And the greens set their catapults upon dried mud land near the weeds, and said let us wait for dusk, some boy said, I know, some boy said.
The bluecoats of the highland, looked down upon the greens, and they found themselves filled with pride and practicality. What is violence without reason, when we have our fort so strong, in “Evermore”, we have been here for eternity. Let us throw down rocks like bullets rain our war upon the greens, for in our souls we have superiority. We shall hold our mighty highland, we shall stand for “Evermore”, our enemies will become but a false dream, some boy said, I know, some boy said.
So the bluecoats rained down rocks like bullets upon the greens by the weeds, and the greens dodged their pellets beneath the thick leaves. At a point in time, the sun did dip, and the greens counted their deceased, total losses amounted to twenty-three. We have slain them they are conquered said the bluecoats on the hill, let us retreat to our fortress and watch them leave, it will be a sign of our true wealth, or better yet our “Evermore” superiority, some boy said, I know, some boy said.
In the valley by the weed growth near the driveway called a sea, crept the warriors of the Greens an army. Looked they up onto the highlands in the dusk all they could see, was the tin foil fort of the enemy. Bent they back their plastic catapults held by rubber bands tightly, held within the cups of each a gas-soaked gravel, to fly when touched by a match lit carefully. Up above in “Evermore” not a bluecoat could be seen, tucked away secure not afraid of that which lies beneath, some boy said, I know, some boy said.
In the evening on the highland, that looked over a driveway sea, came a rain of fire that was birthed from near the weeds. Burning gravel falling terror from the green army, hit the tin foil keep of the bluecoat infantry. The foil it held the fire for just a little while, but the shards of gravel pierced it through. The wooden sticks that held the fort began to burn as the embers grew. The end the end, the bluecoats sang, as the tin stronghold ripped in two. Some boy said, I know, some boy said.
But what has legend taught us, of battles that we fight, just when we lose our fight, there comes a faithful rite. For just as when the bluecoats fell, and recognized their plight, they called upon compassion from a holy recognized light. The boy in his compassion, of all he did control, sent streams of dribbling water down from a bucket near the knoll. His role was like a being, that looks upon a land, and brings about a miracle when nobody thinks he can. Look up, look up, ye bluecoats, from the highlands where ye stand, your G_D is like a boy, with a bucket in his hand. Some boy said, I know, some boy said. – 1.31.2018 –דָּנִיֵּאל