The Gambler
In a nice morning of winter, when the unborn snow was melting and the southorn breeze was the Harold riding a chariot in a rush to let the sun know, the cold-hearted queen won’t be overthrown, a hopeful man with a red nose and wishful mind, holding his tickets firmly on his way to the station of dreams, where they were selling hope, in bulk. He wasn’t walking on the earth but flying, on a carpet weaved of cloud, very solid and soft. He was a true believer, and trusted the promise was given: ” And God will generously provide all you need.”
When he arrived at the station, he lost control of his vessel and hit the concrete wall, of course he did. Poor man, he didn’t know the meaning of juxtaposition and hyperbole in parables. And like all the good stories, there was a wiseman on a grey horse, drawing a triangle in air with his index finger.
The hopeless man asked him:
That is not the way to do a signum crucis!
The wiseman said:
I am a wiseman, can’t you see my beard and my horse? I am not a priest.
I drew the triangle of Transcendence:
Love, Freedom and happiness.
The words unfortunately you don’t know.
The man was looking at him, perplexed, and said:
Sorry mate, I don’t understand what you’re banging on, but I know I am not in a mood and today is not Sunday anyway. I have paid my debt while your boss hasn’t yet. Leave me alone!
Surprisingly the wiseman did what he asked and left him in peace ( peace?).
The day still was a nice day if you could see and feel, but when hope perishes, eyes can’t see..
The hopeless man was shouting:
I said leave me alone!
– Okay, I am leaving!
Then the wiseman turned to us, whispering:
Think of hope and where you get or buy it from…
The Gambler shouted:
Fu… Off!
And that’s the end of the story.
Rymos
18/07/2024