The Silver Meadows

Forty-thousand sheep in a large pen of steel, the warden has no wooden staff but rather, a gun. The food is great, some say it does them no good and only fattens them up for looks, the wardens do nothing because The herd is free The herd is wise The herd will stone Those who spread lies. And the moment someone’s nose is not facing the same way the decision taken by their brothers and mothers is that they will not see another day Outside of The Silver Meadows, lurks a snarling beast. the subject of so many stories and tales, of houses blown away and younglings turned to a feast. But the wardens have, their guns. The bullets will keep the villain away, the villain is evil any sympathisers are wrong, and behind the walls of The Silver Meadows survival does not last long. Each and every sheep each and every calf has a duty to the Great Giants, they must offer milk, and wool for their clothes, which the wise and great ones need to keep themselves warm, so they can protect the herd. But on the other side, something unheard of is happening, the wolf from The Black Forest and the wolf from far away in Norwegian woods, meet in mind and will, and their teeth have been sharpened on the same logs, they’ve even recruited domestic dogs, to chase down the violent meat, but prey is not their interest. The wolves do not want the sheep like the rams and sheep and the Great Ones sang to their little one, the wolves know that sooner or later their cubs are next the moment they stop fighting the moment there is something they can offer to the giant ones, they know the sheep deserve no wrong. The wolves outside know better than The Herd inside that The Silver Meadows is no meadows. It is, a prison. The wolves have gotten close, generations and generations have bloodied the grass outside, lead pellets drop them in their dozens though dozens have sunk their fangs in the Giant Ones’ flesh to defend the sheep that hurl stones at the very wolves themselves. Many real meadows grow beds of deep crimson, with the blood of all the martyrs, that died in pursuit of breaking the sheep out of the Steel Prison. The rusting steel walls inside of The Citadel, are pictures, that The Great Ones enhanced, to aid those sheep that cannot see the scene so well, and the scene the pictures portrayed made it clear the beasts outside were hungry for the meat that gets them wool stuck in their teeth, and thirsty for blood of the sheep that graze on grass grown on the great mud. Now they chant together every morning and before meals and on breeding grounds, the following scripture; The herd is free The herd is wise The herd will stone Those who spread lies.