Imagine a world with all bending prohibited,
Except the kind practiced by the ruling Nation;
A populace robbed of human rights, restricted
In their living by unlimited pervasion
And senseless perversion;
And endless invasion
Imagine a life of having to bend
Not one’s element, but to the will
Of the slavedriver;
Into the wilderness blend
Or be made into a kill,
Unless taken prisoner…
In a world without hope,
Who would fight for us?
Where could we run,
Stumble or grope?
Who could set things right for us
Before oppression effaced the sun?
Alas the Avatar sleeps;
Whether frozen in ice,
Or, by injury, paralyzed.
Plaintively, his Katara weeps
Shackled by another’s vice
Her bitterness internalized…
For us, the fans, an ending merciful,