PRIDE-LANDS

We must learn to look at ourselves as the Lions that we are, not small helpless and incompetent men we think we are. Then and only then, will Earth have a fighting chance …when she is our Pride-land.

Into the Pride-lands, we are born. Flesh of flesh, fed by the very lands upon which our Fathers dwell. I too have partaken of the fruit of the land; my being is built from the very soils of this Motherland.

Our Mothers have walked these very places, have been marked by them. The corona of their hairs, evidently imbued by the lands. Lusters of the skin, verily spoken for by these very lands.

Into the Pride-lands, we are born as those before us had and those after us will. If I may have my way, take my body back into these lands when Spirit leaves my Flesh and the Soul roams free of Physical. Leave my Body here in, lying with the ancestors. One more guardian stands for the Descendants.

Into the Pride-lands, shall I live my days, dedicating my all to the Paths of those who will walk after me. Straightening their paths and strengthening their backs: fierce battles they shall face yet let them find solace that those before them aced.

Into the Pride-lands, pour I my devotion. While I roam the lands, here in lies my piece of Heaven: gifted from that where I came from, just to plant giant trees whose aromas shall fill my Soul’s home. While I stand here in, this is my duty, to love the Pride-lands.

Honor runs deep, in the Souls of those grateful for the Hand that Feeds. Pride-lands, built overflowing with rivers and brandishing rods that flourish and flower, in awe remain I to thy beauty. My sole piece of Heaven, shall I partake of your gifts more than I need, selfish Soul biting the Hands that Feed? Abomination!

Carry forth my cries, echoes of joys and pleasures that I find in these lands! Heritage written deep into my Being: Wisdom willfully spoken into my Becoming: Belonging joyfully acted in my Doing. Into the Pride-lands, live I my days in passing bliss.

Young Ones rejoice, in the freedom given unto those born into the Pride-lands. Old Ones empathize, unto the loneness experienced by those born in Alien-lands. Blood knows its iron sources, forever Souls longing for places far and beyond.

Pride-lands, what else can man boast of himself than the Divine charge to keep his Homeland well and thriving. What else can Man show, but the abundant fruit born in his Pride-lands for the efforts there in put?

Pride-lands know no family or tribe, just a deep kinship forged across Space and Time by those fed of one Land. It bears no blood shed, for unneeded sacrifices so Sacred are an abomination to its people.

A people dedicated to their Pride-lands have not taste for strife or war; conflict or murder: each is a moment wasted away from strengthening their Heritage.

Grow the Motherland, tend her Tamed Gardens and honor her Unbridled Wild. Uncover not her nakedness, tarnish not her flowing veins. Unveil her not, Uncrown her not!

Nations, powers and kingdoms raise to fall away yet one thing remains: The Lands withstand it all. The Lands and her children, those who know her secrets and understand her sighs.

Touch not her Beating Heart, the future Children and their Fruitful Fodders, touch them not! Lionesses, tend her Sacred in godly meditation. Lions let roar; the Pride is defended by the Lions!

Who shall stand, Sentinels and Guards upon the Gates, leading to the Pride-lands?