I write to you, beloved, from the land of our captivity.

We have not yet made it, but we have planted gardens in this place.

I have heard the sound of the banjo down by the river.

We have sung our song in this strange land.

Our children have danced in the shadow of the dragon.

I have teetered on the verge of calling this home.

We have not yet made it, I know, but I am tired.

I have seen what happens to the ones who approach the wall.

It’s easy to forget that we live within the scope of snipers.

Perched like vultures in their towers.

Some of them used to dance with us by the river.

They are more captive than we are.

This is what our elders taught us.

I know, we have not yet made it, but we have built a life here.

I will not trade this for the offer of their protection.

Though I must confess I have been tempted.

Listen, I have heard whispers that Babylon is falling.

You can only control the dragon for so long

Before it turns its fiery breath in your direction.

We have not yet made it, but we are not far off.

All this is to say, keep watch. I am speaking to myself here.

Remember, the dragon was first a snake in the beginning.

It would be naive to think I cannot also be tricked

Into finding shelter in the shadow of its wings.