Called to Arms

“Mother tells me. . . If I hold out here and I lay siege to Troy, my journey home is gone, but my glory never dies. If I voyage back to the fatherland I love, my pride, my glory dies. . . .”

Picture taken by Wally Gobetz on Flickr. Link to gallery below.

The fates present two strands.  The first is intertwined with laurel and emits a heavenly glow.  The another is a mild shade of lavender, a beautiful bore.  This seems to be a choice between an iPhone or a Nexus, Coke or Pepsi, McDonalds or Burger King.  However, upon second glance, the former thread is painfully thin and pinky-length while the latter could have been a lock of Samson’s hair.  A scrap of the gods’ fabric or yards of a mortal’s?

I see myself lazily skimming a white-sand beach.  Gentle wind and clear-blue waters.  Sun so bright and skies so blue that they seem to wage war on my rods and cones with their intensity.  I float on an inflatable lounge chair, complete with adjunct side-table replete with my favorites: Vietnamese green tea, ironically a shade of black, and the most tenacious coffee ice-cream I’ve ever seen, refusing to succumb to the sunlight.  My version of the lavender string.  As inviting as it is, I can’t stay.

By the time I decide on the second, I would have already seized the first.  In my mind, flawless isn’t synonymous to perfect.  I wouldn’t be satisfied by simply sitting still.  To me, perfection is in constant struggle and uncertainty.  What separates me from the typical gambling addict is an ability to influence the outcome.  I don’t charge into battles blindfolded, untrained and empty-handed.  Thorough or brief, I have already scouted the battlefield and enemy ranks.  Furthermore, I find that the harder I work, the better my luck gets, but still, I win some and I lose some.  A power smoothie of frustration and  disappointment impels me to pick myself up and keep going.  Caught up in the moment, I can disregard the rapidly fraying golden string.  Ignoring fear and wielding a laptop, I meet challenges with no intention to lose.

Called to Arms

One thought on “Called to Arms

  1. I am the same, my lavender string is a scene of perfection, where everything falls into place and I am completely content with my soul.
    But we can’t have that, and I have no shame but to say I read this post 10 times before I could truly comprehend it.


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