In Their Pockets

By AlyJean

And, They said, "What would you give for peace?"

Like children in a candy store, the people dug into their pockets and purses, offering up what they had.

They laughed. "Is this all you give for such a great prize? Pens, keys, phones, change, and lint?" They asked incredulously.

Disheartened, people turned away.

But some could not be swayed by mockery.

"I live by my pens!"

"Those keys lead to my sanctuary!"

"My phone is my life!"

"The change may not be much, but give us time to make it grow!"

"And the lint?" They asked.

Those leaving stopped to listen.

"It's quite a bit of lint. Perhaps you could pile it up and sit on it like a cloud."

They frowned, and the people stood watching, waiting.

"Why don't you keep the lint," They murmured. "Along with your pens, keys, and phones. Hold onto the change, too, and let it grow into good things, into better times, into the days of peace that you desire. Use that change to get there." They disappeared, lint scattering in the wind They'd raised.

The people were frozen. Had they failed?

Those who'd stayed and shown the value of their offerings looked at each other. With that brief glance, they knew what to do.

Days were spent redistributing the change, but people eagerly waited for it to be finished.

Pens, keys, phones, change, and even lint returned, the people all went back to their own individual sanctuaries to examine their change and build it up to peace.

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In Their Pockets

Created: Jul 26, 2010

Tags: pocket autopsy

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