MISSING VIRGIL, AND ....... ...... :(
Tuesday
December 24, 2013 7:53 am
“I
am in a straight betwixt two...” Paul said. I find myself in that
same straight many times in life. Howbeit for a somewhat different
reason than the great apostle was speaking. Nonetheless, for me it is
still a perplexing problem and one that sadly, at least for me, there
seems to be no answer.
I
would like to say to any who reads this that I sincerely hope you
have a, “Very Merry Christmas!” It is so hard for me to believe
that another year has nearly come full-circle... and so soon will be
gone! I remember last New Year's Day sitting at my desk at work, as
if it were last week instead of a year ago, and signing a contract
for a customer and lamenting how quickly time passes... and now we
are here again!
I
thought for this morning I would give anyone who reads this a nice
Christmas poem... instead I'm going to give you one of my old
favorites instead. I'm not sure it would be possible to find two more
disparate authors than Paul and Tolkein to quote in the same blog but
that's what I'm doing this morning.
Sometimes
I find I'm like Paul: having a job to do that's needed and seemed
more to have been thrust upon him rather than him consciously seeking
it: although he was good at it; yet, within his heart was a desire to
do something else... be somewhere else! Again, for a different reason
entirely than was his own I too know that same war which warred in
his heart!
Then,
I thought of 'Old Troll' this early morning (another of which
sleep escaped me for the better part of the night) and Tom. I find
that occasionally I'm like Tom in this story, as he sets out to right
a perceived wrong? But, more often than not I also see a lot of
myself in Old Troll. Sitting alone and not very satisfied while there
is plenty out there in the world which would (at least) temporarily
satisfy him.
Paul,
Tom, Old Troll, or me? Sometimes I'm all those and more... I'm such a
mess! Now as I hunt-and-peck my way across the keyboard I find myself
unexpectedly grinning as I finished with the word “mess” and it
reminded me of a peculiar phrase I once had a person say to me in
describing themselves... 'hot mess!' I had never heard that before
but I was immediately fascinated by the phrase and I liked it very
much! While I believe it could (at times) have been a true
description for the person telling me the phrase... for me it can
only be said that at sundry times I am only a “mess!”
OLD
TROLL
Troll
sat alone on his seat of stone,
And munched and mumbled a bare old bone;
For many a year he had gnawed it near,
For meat was hard to come by.
Done by! Gum by!
In a cave in the hills he dwelt alone,
And meat was hard to come by.
Up came Tom with his big boots on.
Said he to Troll: "Pray, what is yon?
For it looks like the shin o' my nuncle Tim,
As should be a-lyin' in graveyard.
Caveyard! Paveyard!
This many a year has Tim been gone,
And I thought he were lyin' in graveyard."
"My lad," said Troll, "this bone I stole.
But what be bones that lie in a hole?
Thy nuncle was dead as a lump o' lead,
Afore I found his shinbone.
Tinbone! Thinbone!
He can spare a share for a poor old troll,
For he don't need his shinbone."
Said Tom: "I don't see why the likes o' thee
Without axin' leave should go makin' free
With the shank or the shin o' my father's kin;
So hand the old bone over!
Rover! Trover!
Though dead he be, it belongs to he;
So hand the old bone over!"
"For a couple o' pins," says Troll, and grins,
"I'll eat thee too, and gnaw thy shins.
A bit o' fresh meat will go down sweet!
I'll try my teeth on thee now.
Hee now! See now!
I'm tired o' gnawing old bones and skins;
I've a mind to dine on thee now."
Thee'll be a nice change from thine nuncle.
Sunkle! Drunkle!
I'm tired of gnawing old bones and skins;
Thee'll be a nice change from thine nuncle."
But just as he thought his dinner was caught,
He found his hands had hold of naught.
Before he could mind, Tom slipped behind
And gave him the boot to larn him.
Warn him! Darn him!
A bump o' the boot on the seat, Tom thought,
Would be the way to larn him.
But harder than stone is the flesh and bone
Of a troll that sits in the hills alone.
As well set your boot to the mountain's root,
For the seat of a troll don't feel it.
Peel it! Heal it!
Old Troll laughed, when he heard Tom groan,
And he knew his toes could feel it.
Tom's leg is game, since home he came,
And his bootless foot is lasting lame;
But Troll don't care, and he's still there
With the bone he boned from it's owner.
Doner! Boner!
Troll's old seat is still the same,
And the bone he boned from it's owner! ~ Tolkein
And munched and mumbled a bare old bone;
For many a year he had gnawed it near,
For meat was hard to come by.
Done by! Gum by!
In a cave in the hills he dwelt alone,
And meat was hard to come by.
Up came Tom with his big boots on.
Said he to Troll: "Pray, what is yon?
For it looks like the shin o' my nuncle Tim,
As should be a-lyin' in graveyard.
Caveyard! Paveyard!
This many a year has Tim been gone,
And I thought he were lyin' in graveyard."
"My lad," said Troll, "this bone I stole.
But what be bones that lie in a hole?
Thy nuncle was dead as a lump o' lead,
Afore I found his shinbone.
Tinbone! Thinbone!
He can spare a share for a poor old troll,
For he don't need his shinbone."
Said Tom: "I don't see why the likes o' thee
Without axin' leave should go makin' free
With the shank or the shin o' my father's kin;
So hand the old bone over!
Rover! Trover!
Though dead he be, it belongs to he;
So hand the old bone over!"
"For a couple o' pins," says Troll, and grins,
"I'll eat thee too, and gnaw thy shins.
A bit o' fresh meat will go down sweet!
I'll try my teeth on thee now.
Hee now! See now!
I'm tired o' gnawing old bones and skins;
I've a mind to dine on thee now."
Thee'll be a nice change from thine nuncle.
Sunkle! Drunkle!
I'm tired of gnawing old bones and skins;
Thee'll be a nice change from thine nuncle."
But just as he thought his dinner was caught,
He found his hands had hold of naught.
Before he could mind, Tom slipped behind
And gave him the boot to larn him.
Warn him! Darn him!
A bump o' the boot on the seat, Tom thought,
Would be the way to larn him.
But harder than stone is the flesh and bone
Of a troll that sits in the hills alone.
As well set your boot to the mountain's root,
For the seat of a troll don't feel it.
Peel it! Heal it!
Old Troll laughed, when he heard Tom groan,
And he knew his toes could feel it.
Tom's leg is game, since home he came,
And his bootless foot is lasting lame;
But Troll don't care, and he's still there
With the bone he boned from it's owner.
Doner! Boner!
Troll's old seat is still the same,
And the bone he boned from it's owner! ~ Tolkein
It's
a fun read anyway :)
posted by Robin Johnson @ 7:54 AM
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