This is a story of how we became a lost, and losing people.
--
Once, there was a king who loved his wife, very, very much. She was his moon, his stars and his ocean.
When he was down, she was his up.
And he loved her so much, that he gave his seed to her, 3 times, to grow her womb and bring her fruits into bloom and blossom
And he was happy.
Alas, that happiness was not to last.
One evening in July, as she was out by the garden, gazing at their children playing in the fountain in the great sprawling grounds of the palace, tragedy struck.
Her short, impermanent life was taken by a passing beast that had determined to crouch and hide in the bushes.
It had no reason to attack and maul her to dying (it did not appear to be hungry), but it did anyway, apparently unprovoked, as her children watched in horror, powerless to stop the unfolding gruesome scene of their mother being torn apart, limb by limb, in the mouth of an unrelenting and fearsome lion.
And it was from that day onwards, that the king, and his benevolent and just nature began to tinge, and later become corrupted by a dark and powerful blackness in his very soul.
He swore a promise to rid the world of all beasts. Anything that walked on four legs and roared like a lion was killed, at his powerful behest.
And that was how we went from being Singapura, the city of lions, to Singapore, the city of loins that remain locked and caged-in by authority that has passed down since the time of the king and his wife, for the king had ruled that nobody would engage in the act of giving and receiving love, and making love, for he would never again be able to love another, but for his precious and most beloved wife, Maya (the power by which the universe becomes manifest), posthumously renamed Mayat (corpse).
-The end-
26 May 2023 update:
Sing-a-pore: if pores could sing, start with a single pore...
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