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
Of tyranny,
And senseless perversion;
Suppression
Of equality
And endless invasion
Of privacy…

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,
There is no such guarantee:
For more pervasive,
Than we realize,
Than being openly coerced—if you’ll
But open your eyes—
Are other forms of slavery,
We can only surmise,
To other kinds of tyranny—
Is it any surprise?

Between evil and good, the duel
In each can never be set aside,
It seems to be the rule;
How long will our True Self hide?
How hard will it be to decide
To free our “Avatar” deep inside?