Flowers Set on Tables: Chapter Three (of 4)

Flowers Set on Tables: Chapter Three (of 4)

A Story by Paris Hlad

-CHAPTER 3-

 

So, I came down from the mountain,

 

And I saw that the multitude

No longer moved like a great herd,

Pressing hard, one against the other.

 

For the many had come to a resting place

In the green foothills below the mountains.

 

And now, they conversed in brotherhood.

 

But I saw that a rare thing of great value

Had been left in the open, unattended;

 

And that some had moved close to it,

Admiring its beauty, and longing

To take it unto themselves.

 

So, fearing the intentions of those who drew near it,

I secured that item and spoke to the multitude,

Saying, ‘If this item is your item, then say so,

 

But if it is not yours, do not say that it is,

For then, this item will lose its value

 

And become a curse and not a blessing.’

 

And for a long while, no one spoke or moved,

As no one could say that the item was his -

And those who only desired it,

Saw risk in claiming it

 

Since many eyes would witness

 

Their dishonesty.

 

So, I continued to stand before the multitude,

Holding the item above me so that the many

Could behold it and admire its rare beauty.

 

But as the hours passed, I grew weary of holding it,

And angry with those who envied the hand that held it,

 

Even though the item

Did not belong to the hand

That held it and showed it.

 

And I began to fear that its owner would not claim it,

And that by default, the item would become mine.

 

So, I spoke again unto the multitude, saying,

‘Do not be ashamed of losing precious things

But triumphant about finding what was lost.

 

And then, a grieving woman

Arose among the many,

 

And in her tears of shame, she saved me.

 

For the item was hers

And she had been dreaming,

 

Unaware that her treasure had been lost,

And that a stranger had discovered it

And secured it on her behalf.

 

And she embraced me

In thankfulness and love,

 

As I embraced her in love

And greater thankfulness.[1]

 

But now, those who still coveted the item

Gathered together and began to whisper,

 

Sometimes lifting their narrow chins

And glancing at us suspiciously.

 

Then, one of them rose

And pointed his finger

 

Directly at me, and saying,

 

“This is the man who did not fear our shoulders,

The one who caused us to stumble upon him,

And admonished us with his steely gaze.”

 

And another said, “No, this is the watcher

Who declined his turn on the great trebuchet

And dismissed our ambitions as ludicrous.”

 

And yet another who was among them said,

“Indeed, he is both of these men - and more!

 

For now, he is a thief

Who gives our treasure

To a grieving woman.”

 

And their whispers turned to chatter,

And their chatter to a cacophony

Of calumny and threats.

 

And this caused the multitude

To abandon the hope of brotherhood

And to argue among themselves �"

Many saying that the covetous

Were right to chastise me

 

But some saying,

 

“No, the covetous are full of evil and slander;

For we have seen with our own eyes

How they drew near a treasure

That could never be theirs,

 

And how this man secured that treasure

On the woman’s behalf, even fearing

That the item he held would

Become his by default.”

  

But now the grieving woman

Turned to address the covetous.

 

And her eyes fell upon them in judgment,

Though her voice murmured like a brook

In a calm meadow of melting snow:

 

 “What you covet, condemns you to vanity,[2]

And vanity condemns you to fear �"

And fear to all manner of evil.

 

You walk like a herd on a beaten path,

Trampling all things that are before you.

 

You immodestly fling yourselves to the heavens,

Knowing the heavens will remain forever above you,

And that their blessings will remain forever beyond you.”

 

And now, you slander the good

Because you cannot possess the good

But can only hiss like serpents at the good.”

 

Then, a villain who had been silent,

And who was nowise other than a goat,

Unsheathed his sword and raised it high above

The woman who had regained what she had lost;

But she neither feared his blade nor his goat eyes.

For that which is Eternal mocks what is momentary.

© 2023 Paris Hlad


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Added on May 14, 2023
Last Updated on May 14, 2023

Author

Paris Hlad
Paris Hlad

Southport, NC, United States Minor Outlying Islands



About
I am a 70-year-old retired New York state high school English teacher, living in Southport, NC. more..

Writing