I Hope To Tell. By O.b.i

I will tell you a story, but it does not start with once upon a time because those times have left us, when taking a life was not as easy, not because you have to spend days sharpening your lance and more days knotting your bow but because you have to spend months convincing your conscience on why you have to snatch the ground from underneath another man's feet, on why his wife should gnash her teeth and why his children should weep. By the time you have a reason, it is another season and your bow has gone loose again.

Those times have left us when we knew about handshakes before we ever knew about fist, and when we knew fist, it was up in the air in the solidarity of brotherhood in opposition to the brutality of servitude.

Those times when we first saw the friend in a stranger and never saw the enemy, when a smile was the greatest currency and all our action were covered in transparency.

Those times have left us, when we sealed deals with handshakes and warm smiles and we needed only the moon to watch over the night.

I would have told you this story before man became the greatest fear of man.