A pride of Lions, fierce and grand,
Ruled over plains of sunlit land.
They formed a pact, a noble bloc,
A council bound by tooth and lock.
“Together,” said the Lions’ chief,
“No foe can bring us pain or grief.
If one is struck, then all will fight;
Our claws united guard our right.”
The Jackals, watching, thin and sly,
Crept whispering where shadows lie:
“Join our pack, we’ll guard you too —
Without us, wolves will feast on you.”
Soon beasts of every shape and kind,
In blocs were tied, in blocs confined.
And when disputes began to flare,
They summoned blocs from everywhere.
The forest, once a patchwork free,
Became a field of rivalry.
And when at last the war broke loose,
It spread through blocs, with no excuse.
The beasts all bled, the Jackals fed,
And peace was long since cold and dead.
⸻
Moral:
When beasts make blocs for strength alone,
They trade their freedom for a throne.
United teeth may guard today,
But bind the world in endless fray.
The End?
