---

Long ago

There was a very wealthy man

With more gold than he could ever spend

Sweat and mud had never stained his silk clothes nor his jewels

He already had it all

But still wanted more

Long ago

There were a thousand children

Growing up without the joys of youth

Sand and dust had settled on their shoulders for a long time

And their names meant nothing to their oppressor

Whip marks on their backs

For tiny mistakes

Unbearable pain

For one man's lust

How did nobody care?

Ask the sky

The story of the vile man

Who chained the unlucky children

Entrapping all their dreams

The broken stones at their feet

Debris of a shattered freedom

One day

The man received a gift

The spirits heard his sighs of discontent

They made him Lord of Rain

But he went mad with power

Roaring rage of thunder spread over flooded fields

Lightning slashed the earth but the mountain didn't quake

Ask the sky

The story of the vile man

Who chose to be the mountain

That knew not of defeat

He stood tall in all his majesty

But then a familiar sound

He couldn't stand the blows on his stone flesh

The sorrow struck as deep as a whiplash

With every strike, he felt torn to pieces

He tried to scream, but he was silent

When his slaves had him at their mercy

The spirits didn't answer his prayers

Hammers and chisels

Weapons of revenge

After years of ruining lives

The vile man paid the price

He was not the only one

His legacy still lives on