The beast of burden bore a ton of bricks.  I watched him from my window, pondering.

One, who seemed his master, walked along, every now and then nonchalantly tossing

one more brick upon his back.

With gaze fixed on his plodding feet, the beast, without a glance at passersby,

matched his masters lead.  On step more, he seemed to say, another step,

another day.  This simple beast was sorely kept, I think –I do not jest—he often wept.

And all the while, his master sang, prideful notes that fell from ruined lips. 

The burdened beast disdained the song and sank down one more inch...Another brick!

Another verse, the master bellowed sour notes, then cursed, “Go faster!”

The morning next, as I have heard, the master early rose and found

the poor beast sagged entirely to the ground.

“It matters not,” the master said. “Take him out and bury him –I care not for the dead.”

“Come good scribe,” I pleaded, “and engrave an ephitaph.” He came, he wrote,

and then I sat ‘til all the stars went out. “His master—every man must choose—

and Time alone will tell, if he has forfeited his soul or wisely chosen well.”

©

Linda settles

www.RedeemingOurTreasures.com