The Throne Room

He shows his guests around the fabulous drawing room, it’s filled with art works that you usually see in museums, he purrs as he explains; well I bought the Michelangelo when I made the deal for the..I bought the Van Goff a year later, the guests edge closer to the paintings, they want to get the smell, it’s overpowering to be surrounded by such power, well, the art pieces are not worth fifty or a hundred million, even if there are those who will pay the price, it’s the feeling of supreme authority, the fever of power, it’s so stimulating. In the company of such a power filled human being, it’s intoxication, and Mr Power knows this too well, and now that he is getting older, showing off to his friends is one of his hobbies. Did you see the way they react he says later that night, when all alone with his butler, his wife left him for the golf instructor a few years before.

While they gurgle with excitement, each of them wanting a private audience, this man can change lives, all they want to do it is imitate him. Change lives, change my life it seems, their mantra. Imagine, the lives we imitate in the pursuit of happiness. Solomon sighed, a happy breakfast; in the company of friends, food cooked with care, and no shortage of refills when the coffee is near the end. Solomon made tough decisions in his time, but there was one decision he had no choice over, the night the Great Spirit arrived, proof of divine help, the ultimate award. The riches of this world will be coveted by others, but the riches of Heaven, will be,

a love that is shared. Old Mean bag and his trophies, would leave a legacy of resentment, nothing more, as sure as sure is, when he moves on, those left behind, will gladly spill blood in order to get their hands on those trophies.

 

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