I needed a tool, and so I asked for it. And what you know, without much ado, I was granted one. Viola!
Smooth, polished and shiny on the outside. N...i...ce.... so far so good!
Held it in my hand to have a feel. It weighed me down. Man, heavy it was! And cold! Very cold – for me. I was raised in one of the warmest lands, you see! Told my friend, it’s too cold for me. And my friend said – “ Its metal inside, would tend to be cold.” And so I said “Never judge a book by its cover. The smooth and shiny axe is metal after all.”
Well, it was mine and I needed it. Got working with it. Trained it, toned it, so it would be the best in the world. The axe did its work, pretty well indeed! Peace on earth! Amen!
And then – I took a break. I needed one. Relaxing it was – the break that is!
I came back and what do I see? - The axe is no more mine. It was someone else’s. That’s alright, what can an axe do? Its purpose of life is fulfilled only in the hands of a powerful master. An axe has no courtesy, I say! Not even a good bye!! Well, an axe is an axe. I hadn’t labelled it, so guess anyone could grab it in my absence.
Outraged was I -The axe had used all the tricks in the book that it had learnt from me to bring my house down. Axed my house, it did! Can understand that. It did its job with the new master. What annoys me is shouldn’t it have mentioned the task at hand to me earlier? Opportunistic, to have done it and move allegiance to a new master without a word, I feel. Ouch! That hurt. Not the loss of my house (for I knew a more pretty home could be built again and I already have), but the brutal callousness of the whole episode.
The axe was soulless, you see...
[DISCLAIMER: The above write up bears no implied or intended resemblance to any person living or dead. Any similarities that you may feel are purely coincidental. ]
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