the importance of being paradoxical

-Devil.May.Cry

once upon a time, there is a kind of rainbow colored fish living in the scattered lakes of the ancient easternland.
"Foamiliy" is the name that carries the tragedy of their vain attempt of defending the verity.

It is said that their dignified graciousness charmed all the creatures in the water that some of them even jump off the water to heed the call of the wild by resisting the gravity of the earth. What is more fascinating is not only that below the horizon but also the flying ones admired Foamilies' exquisite beauty, they struck the sky in all sorts of manner to show that how much they were enamored by this fine creation, some even pierced their bosom in the thorns of those pale white roses in order to have the scarlet which creator had never created to decorate this land of Foamily. Which, without a doubt that made the Man in the sky no longer able to hold his enviousness, consequently, a long drought was brought upon this land of beauty and harmony that dried up all the lakes and left with lifelessly shattered earth. All other fishes had fled into the farness, no flying ones was ever hesitated of seeking for the oasises, if any, by leaving.

What about the Foamilies? Any surrounding would be rather miserable, the Almighty had given them plenty of time to forever forfeit their sacred dignity. Dreadfully, non of them chose to give in to this brute fate they are forced to face. I am quite confused that to whom should I show my pity, the beautiful or the merciful?

The mother said that wherever the family goes, she will follow. The children said, whatever life they must stand, they will stand it hand by hand. And, the father needed not say anything, for their inherent nature had already answered the question of to be or not to be, it was not until that moment when the choice had to be made that revealed the spiritual link not only between them and their ancestry but also the present and the thereafter.

The one and the only momentous thing in life is to live like a dignified living being and pass this conscience to their posterity.

To them, abandoning their land had no difference as bartering their soul, they would live, but an eternal death. The vibration of today's air is picturing me this vision in which they gave their last breathe as foam to caress their beloved farewells.

For the first time, even the inhumanly romantic tyrant started to think, thinking that if he should, to some extend, be a guardian rather than a warden.

It is not after another countless years that we human appeared on this thriving land. Strangely, the story of the Foamilies are still being told lively, and it is long since they last saw the shadow of God walked the earth.

May Maker watch upon us all.