Two glass beads

It is always startling when the Lord takes away one of our young, so unexpectedly. Such word, youth, attaches with it a myriad of perspective: that of age, of vigor, and of innocence. And we, so stubborn of a creation, fail to celebrate the appreciation and recognition that it rightfully yearns.

I stand here today, deeply saddened by the death of one such youth.

Not a day goes by from that faithful incident, two moons past, that he failed to look back on his two neighbors.

Two nymphs, with only a wall separating him from them, lived in a unit with unbearable darkness. Their place was unlike any other for their aunt, who lived right across them, denied them the convenience of light. Each day, the two, like us of our ages when we were then endearingly naïve, would attend to their usual requirements in their institutions of learning. And each night, the two, whom he could only assume, wings folded, and heads shamefully bowed, would have to regretfully return to the enveloping shade.

Never before has he seen so much virtue, exuded by these two when he sighted them, and each evening then, studying, diligently, using the dim hallway fluorescent lights.

Nothing but the dim hallway fluorescent lights.

And with that sight, his cheek, like a cold glass of bitter ale, trickled, with two glass beads.

So here I am again, standing, this time waiting for my door to be opened, mesmerized as to how a simple dimly lit hallway fluorescent light could radiate so much meaning, rouse one’s sentiment, and inspired by their pursuit of knowledge, is deeply saddened by the death of that such youth, for he never valued his blessings so much more until then.

Two glass beads each night could never repay that youth’s passion lost for infinite lifetimes.