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A Fable MAG
Kozlovsky was a man of character and no convention,
Employing his great skill and wild imagination,
He brought to life a ponderous invention.
Back in the day of rapid growth and industrialization,
Unpleased by the bluntness of his life,
He went into seclusion, to explore his own inspirations.
Thus isolated from the pressure of his peers,
He looked to bring into the world a tool,
To relieve the paranoid people of their many fears.
He tackled the overwhelming problem head first,
But even at his best and his worst
No solution was to be found, till he thought he'd burst.
A bit discouraged, but not at all depressed,
He sat by the window, watching a bird build its nest,
When it decided to leave its scrupulous work at rest,
The bird flew up, and its flight at a crest,
It disappeared into the clouds
Now our great hero knew no rest,
A burning need arose in his, no longer peaceful, chest.
He longed to leave everything behind,
To spread his wings and soar,
He was so sure, he let out a tremendous roar!
To work he went, determined to overcome all things.
He sketched, glued wood, and stretched out springs,
Until before him stood a pair of wings.
Only then did he stop to contemplate the situation.
He could hardly comprehend his heavenly creation.
Before he knew, he was atop a cliff, driven by
an urge he could not soothe
This was the long awaited moment of truth!
Strapped onto his precious wings nice and tight,
The great inventor risked a flight.
He leaped off the awesome height.
The feeling shocked him, like a blind man - the light!
His joy was boundless, he flew till the very night.
Whooshing up, down; maneuvering left and right.
The wind sang in his ears, as if acapella,
His flight had ended in Venezuela.
The triumphant event was spotted by a king abroad,
Who offered for the wings quite a load:
Money, precious stones, and all.
The inventor could not ignore such a call.
With plans of building better, faster wings,
This proposal seemed to fit the best of things.
Ready to face new challenges he returned home,
To find his lab in pieces,
Destroyed by jealous nieces!
He could never replace the vital sketches,
That were destroyed by the bloody wretches.
The moral of this silly story, folks,
Don't sell your wings, not even for a million bucks.
And this goes without explanations:
Don't ever give your address to any unnecessary relations.