🐍🦁 II. The War of Seasons

As remembered this year by One Gregory Onegodian™

For eons, the two kingdoms lived in a tense and trembling peace.
Their harmony was never the sound of unity, only the silence before conflict.

When the lions roared,
the sun lingered too long,
burning the plains until the earth cracked open in thirst.

When the serpents hissed,
the rains fell without mercy,
flooding the savannas, drowning embers, and swallowing the horizon in shadow.

This year, when I reflected on their struggle,
I realized I had lived versions of both seasons within myself:
the fire that runs too hot
and the wisdom that floods too deep.

Balance fractured — just as it does in any spirit caught between extremes.
And from that fracture, the Eternal Monsoon rose,
raining for forty cycles of the sun,
until forests overtook stone,
until vines claimed fallen crowns,
until both empires became lessons buried beneath green silence.

Amid this chaos, a whisper drifted through shattered temples
and roots that remembered everything:

“When light coils with wisdom, the world shall breathe again.”

This year, I understood that prophecy differently.
Not as a myth about kingdoms long gone,
but as a truth about reconciling halves of the self:
fire with patience, power with precision, courage with clarity.

That prophecy was not about the world breathing again —
it was about me breathing again.