I easn`t going to add this but, well, it may serve as some kind of marker for the events of 11/9/09...
Imagine this, you grow a tree,
And are proud.
You`ve grown it tall and beautiful,
The branches spread across the world,
And its glory fills all our skies.
Imagine this, it casts a shadow,
Long and dark,
Over nations that asked not for beauty
Of another mans conception,
And they grow first fearful, then angry.
Imagine further, that they have axes,
Hard and sharp,
And come to chop down your tree,
And all the lives that live in it,
Innocent Squirrels all, blameless and pure.
Know this, I grieve for the squirrels,
but no-one else.
All others know blame, whilst none accept it.
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