There are many lions that prowl the dry savanna. Some who look forlorn. Give him what the sun gives a flower. A lion has a mane, but without a lionessís love, itís not a crown. He has claws to fight, to kill, but he wonít eat without your blessing. The lion is a cub, and an animal inside. We raise them up to be fair, in a jungle!
But the lioness, is a mother, a sister, and she has a choice. Feed the lion with hope and bring him up to be like a Lion of Judah. Or cut him down and steal his crown. Not because he is stronger, not because he is evil. Itís that he represents an enemy in her eyes before he even knows what he represents. But this seed shall never fight for anyone, unless she heals his heart.
And every day that goes past on all our journeys you may need a king to lead, not only your family, but the hope of the world. The next lion, that kills or attacks the weak, remember that goodness lies in the way forward. A male lion has no pride, itís a myth, he either walks alone or the lioness comforts his heavy heart. No other generation has faced the lionessís roar. For when a lionessís heart is cold it causes pain to all in her path.
But an open wound from her claws will be damned by a tree that never fought the apple of her eyes. If she and other lionesses do not take pride, in the male lions of tomorrow, itís the one who steals the sun that will smite all our cubs. For a male lion has his own choices, and must make a land of his mighty roars. If he fails, learn to see past, what hurt you have, and if you can give him your lionís heart.
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