Man must not disclaim his brotherhood even with the guiltiest, since, though his hand is clean, his heart has surely been polluted by the flitting phantoms of iniquity.
– Nathaniel Hawthorne
There once lived a prince, whose kindness and generosity was known near and far… His castle, Arronrood stood at the top of a great mountain overlooking his kingdom… its awe-inspiring beauty witnessed from the valley below. Dressed in the finest sable and pearl of his day, the Prince’s countenance knew no address as his eloquence and grace spread throughout the land. And each morning in a caisson draped in black and led by four horses of the same color, the Prince rode out through the countryside in close proximity to his lands. Joined by his beloved, these daily excursions kept him juxtaposed in the hearts and soul of his subjects.
There once lived a pauper who dressed in whatever simple garments he found. He could hardly feed his family of five and was well accustomed to begging. His labors being at times numerous and difficult, still each morning he carried his family to the main road in and out of town in a wagon pulled by two oxen, the prize possessions of the family. And it was here amidst the economics of the marketplace they went to greet the Prince and his entourage. And the smile on the pauper standing in wait by the roadside and the joy on the facial expressions of the prince had you wondering who exemplified a feeling of total wellbeing more, the Prince or the Pauper, as though never before or since had its existence been recorded.
In a land far away in space and time, there waged a great war where both sides were unequivocally wrong. The slaughter and carnage developed into hateful and displeasing encounters even amongst friends. As the battlements laid afire and the rivers turned red, the sacred seemed lost in death and destruction. The reason for the displacement of chivalry for ignorance was lost to all who fought in this great battle of forevermore. As thousands of men, women, and children laid dead or dying on the battlefield, in the distance a faint cry is heard one more time of the hounds of hell coming closer while the Devil does a wicked dance.
The Earth rumbled one more time and its last was the worse as boulders crushed building after building, swallowing it seems the whole of civilization in its bowels, finally forcing us to mourn those that may not have made there way. But before a could evaporate, a great force of humankind converged upon the destruction. With machines and often times with bare hands moving boulder after boulder and rock upon rock, survivors are found and set free as family and friends alike declare, “a miracle, a miracle”!
And the Prince is to the Pauper as the faculty of war is to the selflessness of altruism… for in everything is hidden the shadow self as we are capable of each step in this dance. So in life be diligent and mindful in all you do… jc
*Cotillion- a dance celebrating changes in life.
*images courtesy of Pixabay