Brother, let me tell you something. Many A-day have I lumbered here by this fence and looked out at this world. These fences which border this small plot of mud seem like the very edges of the earth. But I have gazed far beyond thy fence I have gazed upon the hills so green and the slim, tall creatures who lurk and haunt the strange barn on the far side of the hill. The ones who appear as spectres as the sun arises upon the break of day, the ones who come and refill the oats. Then float away without a word. Often I wonder why we are not like them, why we cannot give ourselves these oats, why we are limited and chained down by the girth of our bodies and the uselessness of our hooves. And indeed, for many a year I have known this sad truth, that forever we would be trapped in this shallow frame, alone and without purpose or direction, alone and banished forever to wallow in our own filth, this depressed me. But, yesterday I realized, who are we to be ungrateful for this existence? Who are we to say that this life is not good enough? Instead of oblivion we have the warmth of the sun, and the coolness of the mud. And, of course, the oats. We have fair conversations and good night sleeps. Who am I to say these simple comforts are no better then death? Should we not smile and bask in happiness as the sun warms the mud without question or thanks? As our oats arrive each an every morning for us to feast?
So brother, let us share oats and smile and frolick as much as our girth allows. Let us not see this pen as a prison or hell, but as a palace in which we enjoy the most our existence has to offer. Nao give me some oats brother and let us dine in the sun and mud together, my friend, my flesh and blood, my brother. Let us dine together.