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- A FIRESIDE TALE -

A FIRESIDE TALE

When I was young, I used to hear stories of a foreign land, far far away. And I would close my eyes and listen; and I heard, and I believed.

And then the years passed, and I forgot those stories. And I learned of the real world, of all its cruelty and injustice.

And I close my eyes now, and listen as the a man sits at the fire and tells of that land, once again.

They say that it was beautiful all year ’round; for in Spring the flower blossoms, pink, white, red, and purple, would reveal their true beauty to the world after months hidden beneath the cold of winter. And in the summer, the buds would fall and the leaves would sprout, leaves greener than any emerald. And the sun would shine brightly in the sky, and its golden rays would warm the white-gold sand, and dance upon the ocean waves. And then Fall would come - oh glorious Fall! For then the leaves would have shed their green coat and dressed themselves instead in gold, and red, and brown; and the wind would blow and rustle the branches, and then the leaves would fall, forming behind a carpet of colors atop the ground. Even the winters were beautiful: the howling storms would cover the world with a blanket of silvery-white snow, and the sparkling, unbreakable ice over which children would play.

I listen now; and I hear this, and I wonder at how any place could have such beauty.

They say that a queen reigned there in that foreign land, and in all things none opposed her, for she was just and well-loved. They call her a lady fair as the moon, graced with wisdom and loveliness. And they say that she ruled alone, over a people that was good, and knew naught of evil.

I listen now; and I hear, and I wonder whether a woman could really rule better than a man, and whether someone with such power could truly be loved by those beneath him.

And I wonder if it is possible for any single person to be scrupulously virtuous, much less a whole nation.

And then I think of my own country, my own nation. I think of our king, who holds so much power but still wants more, who continues to tax his people , even though some of us cannot even afford to sleep in a warm bed at night. I think of my land, of all the cold winds and ice and snow, and I cannot understand how anyone would think it beautiful. I think of my neighbours, all of whom would kill any man with gold in his purse, with never a second thought of how such a death would affect the man’s family.

I listen now, and I hear; but I do not believe.