In the beginning GOD made the babymen
The babymen were all types of colors yet all the same.
The babymen felt lost in their new world.
So GOD bestowed upon them healthy nuggets of fine weed and the babymen rejoiced.
The babymen danced, sung and smoked the fine weed.
All was good in the babyman world till one day a babyman declared himself king of the weed.
“I am King of this weed!” the babyman declared
Then a great baby war began between the Brown babies and the Peach babies.
The babymen fought for what seemed like centuries till neither babyman knew what they were fighting for, all the while no weed was smoked.
The carnage was unspeakable, the atmosphere turned red in a cloud of bloody baby mist.
Only one babyman was left in the great wars aftermath.
Tired, lost, bruised and bloodied this babyman could claim himself the victor of war.
Yet he was all alone on a bloodstained terrain with nobody to share his spoils with.
Then GOD intervened yet again, placing him amongst nature and setting him along a path.
The path given to him was treacherous. To escape from his turmoil he must climb.
and climb.
and climb.
Till he reaches a great wooden precipice.
Here he can look over the vast landscape devoid of fellow babymen, here he can see the form of existence.
It’s form is malleable, Shaped with time and opinion but still casting a never waining darkness, telling the babyman that you can either live in the light of existence or be within it’s shadow.
While babyman stared off into the great horizon, longing for his lost baby brothers and the fine weed he thought of a poem he once heard, it goes:
end.
Thanks for checking it out
eatcho
