Guest guest Posted July 1, 2002 Report Share Posted July 1, 2002 Metaphors are bountiful – perhaps this one will do: We seem born into a prison. Everyone opens their eyes in a cell. Each cell is different, but they all share a certain something – for one thing they're all cells. Some will try to beautify their cells, some will pound their heads against the walls, some will even carve wise markings about how the cell is not a cell, or even suspect the Jailer is none other than themselves. Who knows how or when or why, but a Key may slide between the bars one day or night that works just right. Locks tumble, the door swings open – Free! At this point most such lucky inmates beat a path right out of there, but now and then an odd one stays to share that Key – it just seems fair. One after another jailbird is released into fresh air. All the while the prison guards continue guarding, unaware. Once outside, it may occur to some that they were never really bound, that it all was a bad nightmare from which they've finally been spared. In the prison yard a rumor spreads about some fellow with a key, but for most this prison life continues onward, endlessly. Will you be one who, tasting Freedom, turns around and flees that hell, or perhaps the odd one then who liberates this one last cell? And what is this "last cell" I speak of -- who or what's to liberate? Ah, Dear Friends – if it could be said, I surely wouldn't hesitate! Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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