Humbubba

Softly amidst the cedar and spruce must we tread. Every step will surely crack something. Defilers and despoilers, if allowed to walk where the boardwalk ends we will cause irrevocable damage to the biome. Mustn't disturb the ground, they say.

Humbubba has returned to this earth. Gilgamesh and Enkidu have been forgiven for their careless and mighty sin and the Gods of water and sky have given Humbabba back to us. He is here, I tell you, weaving through the branches and trunks, carful to not be seen lest some other adventuresome duo bury their bronze axes in his sacred hide.

Can you blame him? Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice...

Humbubba has returned. His will can be seen in the signs and the brochures cautioning the tourists to stay on the trail. His influence can be discovered in the voices of the protestors and lawyers. this time, things will be different. And yet, he has barely had time to begin. Humbabba has not begun to combat the larger evils of industrialization, market demands and government logging quotas. There is so much to do and so much time has been lost. Poor Humbubba.

After all, it was not through his negligence that the great cedars of Lebannon were harvested to extinction. He fought hard against the vagaries of human arrogance. But strong enough he was not. And with him fell the trees by the thousands.

And if he fails here? If some rifle wielding maniac with God's blood in his veins and whisky in his pocket flask decides that mighty Humbabba would look good as a carpet by the fireplace and guns him down in the name of glory?

We shall all fall with Humbubba.