Short story

Once upon a time there was a boggy man. No one could see him but the people feared him. When they thought he was close by they would run and hide. They stayed locked in their houses , isolated from their communities and dressed in masks hoping he would disappear. They fear that he would come and make them cough which drove them so mad that they started to practice black magic. Paralysed with paranoia they injected poison into themselves, into their off spring and into their loved ones.

Hiding behind their four walls made them feel safer. No longer would families and friends gather for laughter or happiness. People felt alone and scared. Governments perpetuated more fear and insisted that everyone drink magic potions of poison every day. But, still everyone was afraid. The bogeyman never appear but their souls did disappear.

Everyone became soulless, free less and courage died alone with them.


The emerald green meadows covered in rainbow coloured flowers,

the sun light dances through the leaves and dances through the trees

the mountains in the background watches over me and the lakes water reflects

the sun light leaving me in the sunset alone with the wind,

the winds sings in the sky and now it says goodbye.

Poem written by my eight year old son.

Defeat – Kabila Gibran – 1883-1931

Defeat, my Defeat, my solitude and my aloofness;
You are dearer to me than a thousand triumphs,
And sweeter to my heart than all world-glory.

Defeat, my Defeat, my self-knowledge and my defiance,
Through you I know that I am yet young and swift of foot
And not to be trapped by withering laurels.
And in you I have found aloneness
And the joy of being shunned and scorned.

Defeat, my Defeat, my shining sword and shield,
In your eyes I have read
That to be enthroned is to be enslaved,
And to be understood is to be leveled down,
And to be grasped is but to reach one’s fullness
And like a ripe fruit to fall and be consumed.

Defeat, my Defeat, my bold companion,
You shall hear my songs and my cries and my silences,
And none but you shall speak to me of the beating of wings,
And urging of seas,
And of mountains that burn in the night,
And you alone shall climb my steep and rocky soul.

Defeat, my Defeat, my deathless courage,
You and I shall laugh together with the storm,
And together we shall dig graves for all that die in us,
And we shall stand in the sun with a will,
And we shall be dangerous.