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The Legend of Sant Jordi

The story I’m about to tell / Has roots in love and wisdom

Like any legend ever born it stands between reality and myth

– for Sant Jordi did exist.

A Roman soldier with strong faith and a belief in Good

And he stood tall as tall can be / A martyr for his Truth

He died for Faith, he died oppressed and he became a symbol.

Saint George, Sant Jordi, Gheorghe, Goran

Just different language in the end / But what we celebrate, in fact…

The tale as old as time — good’s triumph over evil

– so grab a needle, grab a thimble

And let’s sew it together — and just this once we’ll change the game

And make the legend fun — for that itself won’t be a crime

So we begin — It seems but fair -

With once upon a time…

In a pint-sized village, just West of Barcelona

With twisted yellow brick-roads and houses made of stone

Lived a community of farmers. The name is yet unknown.

By seeing things from distance, all life appeared but normal

And one could even say — all washed in plain routine

As all that met the eye was just medieval dull, without no real appeal

However, don’t be harsh, and don’t be quick to judge

As there was more to this than quickly meets the eye…

Just like a Disney classic, the elements all shuffle

Up the hill, imagine — a proud, immense, colossal

A King’s own solemn castle

And in this mighty structure (build God knows how, without the help of CAD )

Lived a Princess of such grace to whom all people bowed

For she was lovely, pure and kind and knew nothing of sorrow

And there she waltzed and laughed and sang, spreading her purest joy –

A beauty of such power, to take your breath away

Like Helena of Troy.

Beyond the fairytale, however, we’re bound to look at facts.

And every story has its share of quite disturbing acts.

That joy and glee we spoke at first — blessing the farmer’s lives

Suffered a mild disruption — as time to time, once in a while

A Dragon would appear. All of a sudden, waken up, sometimes in Spring, sometimes in Summer

And he was angry once he did — and might I add quite greedy

And since the story does not follow the route of Game of Thrones

You can imagine how this quickly, became a public issue, with different undertones.

At first the farmers took it well, as this was rare display

They fed him cattle — sheep and cows, a trade for his departure.

And for a while, this worked so well — for this was the array

However, by a twist of fate — there was a change in matrix

It seemed that nothing that he ate would fall into his graces

Or he was bored with this Covid, and lacking interaction

The social distancing, appears to change all needs and patterns.

Let’s turn our focus, at this stage

On how the farmers acted. Though sweet and peaceful in appearance

There was a fire burning. And just like any other human

When faced with death and peril

They lost their heads a little bit and all became unsettled

What fitter sacrifice to give, to bribe the fuming Creature?

Than the most rare of Roses? The fairest in the kingdom?

Which makes you think a bit about their mental feature…

The King, her father, loved her so, of that I certify

She was, to use a common phrase, the apple of his eye

And yet, oppressed by all and in the face of revolt

He did what any King would do, given this is a myth

The terms of service of the story required he forfeit

And so it happened in the end — The Princess had to go

And from her sacrifice of life remove the mighty foe.

The King, however, prayed and prayed and urged implored and potter

We understood this is a legend, but to be frank, she was his daughter.

He cried for help, he wept in sorrow, he asked the skies for mercy

He pleaded for a Hero, a Giant, an Unworldly

To come with wit and grace and power

And save his precious Flower…

And from his burning prayer, the vault turned dark in color

The wind blew strong, the clouds piled up — a manifest of sorrow

The day turned black, the Sun had gone — it seemed all Hope would perish…

But in that moment Faith and Beauty would flourish once again

As from a place of Nothing, came rushing like a storm

A Knight in shining armor, the Love in human form

And he was not a King, and nor was he a farmer

He was Sant Jordi, brave and worthy

With shield in hand and sword in other, our mighty Hero fought so bravely

He ran the dragon through with his weapon

And freed the Princess and the others, thus stopping the oppression

The Dragon did not stand a chance, objectively speaking

With such a strength, and such a virtue, Sant Jordi had him kneeling

And from the blood that left his veins — as far as eyes could see

A field of roses grew — the story’s apogee

Sant Jordi — a gentleman by nature ( a manner’s connoisseur )

After the sturdy battle and in the crowd ovation

Bend his knee and plugged one rose -

An offer to the Princess — a sign of honor. A proof of liberation.

There could be different manners for us to end the story

A lesson here to learn, a quote, or a cliché

But what I do propose is just an introspection

An inside view — a change of angle — a bit of self-reflection

We all have Dragons that appear — all of a sudden, waken up, sometimes in Spring, sometimes in Summer…

And they are angry once they do — and might I add quite greedy..

And yet — you’re not a King, living a myth, required to forfeit…

So find that strength from deep within, as you do have the power, the wit, the energy, the force

You do have all of those.

And push that Dragon far away and be reborn into a rose…


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