Almost Full

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The table was so long

I couldn’t see where it ended.

An incredible banquet

of countless dishes crowded

together and out into the distance.

I picked up a plate and excitedly moved along

sampling this and that.

Many dishes were marvelous and delicious,

many shockingly foul and bitter,

but I found while the flavors faded,

all were worth trying.

 

I grew anxious.

 

Some dishes emptied,

but I wanted more.

And it occured to me

that my stomach couldn’t possibly fit

a taste of everything.

It hurt to see all the

tempting treats

I would have to leave

untouched.

 

Half way down the table,

with the beginning and end both in sight,

I noticed so many things I wanted to taste

weren’t even

on the table.

 

Rage and disappointment!

How could this be my banquet?

This is all there is?

 

I felt a hand on my shoulder.

It was the chef.

I was just about to complain,

but she spoke first,

in a voice of wry and friendly humor:

 

“It’s funny!

You are here

and you have been given

an exquisite banquet,

and yet you’re upset,

because all you can think about

is what you couldn’t have.

Ha!”

 

She handed me a glass of water,

almost full,

winked,

and walked away.

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