The
Life Of A Story
From the telling of Rich(bodhránaí gan ciall)
A friend of mine passed this on to me.
Once there was a story, told back and forth amongst friends. It was a simple tale, but the story didn't care, so long as it was told.
One day it was told to a travelling merchant who took it with him when he left the town, but the story didn't care so long as it was told.
In its travels one day the story was told to a harper, who put the story to verse. It was sung from stages great and small, as well as around hearths, at the cradle and all over. And still it was a simple tale, and just happy to be told.
One day it was sung to a holy man. It then took on a whole new life. People began to look to the story for answers. Some based their diet on it. Others took to the road to tell it further. The story was pleased to be told so often, but still it was a simple tale and didn't care so long as it was told.
Eventually, it came to the attention of the king. The king wasn't all that pleased with all the attention that was being paid to the story (and hence not to him, by thunder!). He declared anyone telling the story would be put to death! Thus began a time of persecution, but still the tale was told, now in hushed voices behind closed doors. Once again the story didn't care, so long as it was told. It was a simple tale.
Well, years have gone by, and the story has traversed the globe many times over, until it came to the my friend, Scott, who gave it to me. And now I've given it to you. ANd still it's just a simple tale, that only wants to be told.
Rich Rayburg