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A Fable in the Style of Jean de La Fontaine.
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Listen to this fable.
| Upon the ocean’s endless
sprawl, A Plastic Bottle heard the call: “Who dares to drift near coral’s keep, Disturbing all who softly sleep?” It turned to see a Turtle wise, With steady gaze and ancient eyes. “I float,” it said, “without a home, Abandoned here, condemned to roam.” The Turtle sighed, its voice subdued, “So many like you taint our brood. Your kind, though crafted by man’s hand, Now poisons sea and strangles sand.” The Bottle bristled, full of pride, “Do not blame me for where I ride! I served my use, I bore their drink, Then cast away—what can I think?” “True,” said the Turtle, “it’s not your crime, But you drift on, beyond your time. The choice is yours—float here, forlorn, Or find new purpose, be reborn.” “But how?” the Bottle asked, confused, “A tool discarded, long unused?” “Unite,” the Turtle said, “with waste, And show mankind its dire haste. Upon the shore, you’ll find your kin, The cans, the bags, the careless sin. Their sight, amassed, may rouse a mind, And teach the truth they’ve left behind.” The Bottle pondered, then complied, And rode the waves with changing tide. It reached the shore, a grim parade, Where countless relics had decayed. And when the humans saw this scene, They worked to cleanse what once had been. They shared the tale of waste and woe, And vowed to let their conscience grow. The Turtle watched from waters blue, And saw the world transform anew. Though tides of change may slow unfold, The smallest act can still be bold. Moral Though small, your choices shape the sea; Together, they’ll change destiny. |
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