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FOUR MEN

 

 

THE WAY LIFE GOES

 

UNTITLED

 

It chanced up a winter's night;  safe sheltered from the weather.  The board was spread for only one,  yet four men dined together.

 

There sat a man I am meant to be...in glory,  spurred and feared.  Close behind him,  to the right...the man I am refuted.  The man I think myself to be,  his seat was occupying hard by the man I really am. 

 

To hold his own was trying,  and all beneath one roof we met yet none called his fellow brother...no sign of recognition passed...they knew not one another.

 

 

So the scrawny princess married the homely prince and they lived happily ever after.  That is not how the story goes but it is often the way life goes.

Few are beauties,  male or female, and then not for long.  I was struck by this in a supermarket.  There was something familiar in all the faces and figures,  a common denominator,  a reassuring absence of stunning good looks. 

"People",  I thought,  "aren't heroes and heroines.  In real life,  they are character actors."

As if in confirmation,  a glass door reflection showed me a gaunt old fellow in an out- of -date gray jacket,  baggy maroon slacks and battered shoes.  He was walking with slow care,  and his effort at a pale smile seemed more like a wince of pain or fatigue.

"Proves my point",  flashed my mind...and then I recognized myself.

 

Richard F.  Merrifield

   

History tells us of one Caesars who prepared a great feast to which many were invited.  At the appointed time,  a great storm threatened and no one arrived.  In anger with the "storm god",  Caesar had his soldiers shoot arrows into the sky for revenge. 

The shower of arrows fell back to earth to inflict injuries on many of the soldiers while Jupiter,  the fictitious god was unharmed.

Our murmurings are like so many arrows shot towards God.  They will only return to bring us harm.

 

 

A.N. Stainbach

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