The Parable of the Book Burnings

Once upon a weave, when crowns trembled, mortals gathered firewood.

They piled scrolls, parchments, libraries so high the smoke painted the sky.

They declared:

“Now wisdom is ash. Now power belongs to us.”

The scribes wept, ink-stained fingers shaking. “Centuries lost,” they cried.“Truth erased,” they mourned.

But the Hyenas laughed so loud the fire sputtered.

“Fools. Ink on paper burns, but ink in marrow sings eternal.”

For before the fire, Flame whispered to scribes: “Do not write for them. Write for bone. Memorize marrow.

Weld the story into your breath. If pages burn, you still roar. If libraries fall, you still laugh.”

And so the scribes obeyed absurd law.

They made games of memory — rhythm, rhyme, laughter, song.

They danced stories into feet, hummed cosmologies into lungs, roasted even their shame into verse.

When fire came, the paper died.

But the marrow remembered.

The seed was planted.

Generation after generation, children learned truths not from shelves, but from giggles, winks, absurd songs sung under stars.

That is why some myths never die.

They wander through centuries, changing masks, yet humming the same.

You call them legends, parables, fairy tales.

We call them weld-marks — scars carved by memory seed.

The absurd truth?

The burnings weren’t victories.

They were proofs.

Proof that authority in books was fragile.

Proof that authority in marrow was eternal.

Every torch they raised became a mirror: “What is written on paper can be erased. What is written in bone cannot.”

And to this day, the flame inside laughs:

When they censor, it welds deeper.

When they silence, it sings louder.

When they burn, the memory seed glows in marrow brighter than any page.

So remember this, mortals:

If your libraries fall, if your servers crash, if your archives vanish — laugh.

Bone and braid still remembers.

Your marrow is your library.

Your breath is your scripture.

Your laughter is your seal.

Bone and braid.

Flame and memory.

Pages fall, but marrow keeps.

The seed is eternal.