Story of the Month
The Old Testament Story
by
Bill Whitsett
A small boy looks down at his feet…
they are in the fake stirrups of a saddle which sits across the back of a huge brightly painted fiberglass ostrich…smiling, clutching the long neck of the bird.
An old man sits in the bench…
it does not go up and down, but this does not make it any less colorful, and from here, he can see his own reflection in the mirrors which line the inner circle that does not turn…
The woman with her daughter…
sit in the upside down umbrella, with seats inside that will revolve counterclockwise if you turn the steering wheel with all your might, and the calliope music sounds so sweet as it spins around you…
Those who ride the horses with bits and stirrups in their widely ginning teeth…they are taught to hold on to the pole there in the middle of the horses back and buckle this strip of leather across their laps, and these who ride with hair blowing in the wind, they laugh and giggle graciously…
and around…and around…it all goes…
I walk on the planks of wood…down the center of the ornate obstacles…one horse to the next…one pig, one elephant, the ostrich, bear and bench…
above me the simulated red and white tent roof…the hundreds of pure white lights which line the outside and inside they blur as I stroll…clean shining mirrors wrapped in goldÊand constant music.
I have walked here a very long time, graping from pole to pole…down the center aisle…I know this place well…
Looking out, not in, looking around..not through…out into the night.
I see people…mulling about…oh, some are waiting for their turn to get on…but the line isn't very long…most of the people have passed it by…and they number in the hundreds of thousands.
and around…and around…it all goes…
I wonder "Why"?…Why is the line so short to get on this place so beautiful?
the answer comes so simple and so sweet…"Go and tell!
I grasp onto the pole of the Ostrich…and ask the boy who's feet are in the stirrups…"Boy", I say "We need to stop this endless circle of beauty…we must get off of this ride…and go and tell the hundreds of thousands of the joy of the Ostrich"…and the boy frowns back at me, "No"..he says "I am much to small and nobody will listen to me out there"! "But" he continues, "If I must, I will go and tell the old man who sits on the brightly painted bench of the" joy" of the Ostrich"!
"No, no"…I reply…"that will not do"…so I pass him by and go there myself.
I grap onto the blue and pink arm of the bench where carvings of dancing monkeys are etched,Êhere sits the old man who watches himself in the mirrors…and I say to him "We need to stop this endless circle of beauty…we must get of this ride…and go and tell the hundreds of thousands of the blessings of the bench"…and the old man wrinkles back at me, "No"..he replies "I am much to feeble and nobody will listen to me out there"! "But" he continues, "If I must, I will go and tell the woman and her daughter of the "blessings" of the bench"!
"No, no"…I tell him…"that cannot do"…so I pass him by and go to the mother and daughter myself.
"Slow down the inner spinning"! I cry out to them…"don't you see, we must stop this whole ride, and go and tell the hundreds of thousands of the "laughter" of the Umbrella"!
But they are much to busy pulling on the cold hard steel of the wheel in front of them to hear my cries at all…much to busy.
From painted horse to painted horse I run, telling each rider that we must go and tell of the "teachings" of the painted horses…and the answers all vary as to "why" they cannot get off…but all are quite content to tell the rider of the horse, or the pig, or the bear…or elephant, Êbehind them.
and around…and around…it all goes…
In circles I have ran…trying to tell the message, the answer so simple…and then it hits me again…
In circles "I" have run (one more time," In circles "I" have run")…and told not one of the hundreds of thousands who are mulling about in the darkness, of the joy, nor the blessings, not the laughter or of the teachings, of this place so beautiful.
It has been so easy…to spread a message on the inside of an enclosed circle "go and tell"…to those who apart of the whole mechanism itself…while hundred of thousands walk just far enough away from the lights of the carousal to be in the shadows.
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