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The Philosophy of Socrates: Part XIV
A Little Boy's Struggle
--Socrates takes a walk through a small field of grains, after a small stroll he approaches an opening on the opposite end of the field, a small child sits among a pile of rocks, cussing absurdities--
A Little Boy:
I Hate you Mother...Father I do I do I do...I want to be free from the reigns you place on my soul...maybe find my own place in life's many choosings,
Mom...I wish you could understand...I wish only to find peace within myself...I need you here sometimes...you see with your eyes...not your ears,
Dad...Wish me more...Wish me less...You were never around to see me blessed by the priests for the Gods to see...offerings given but you wearn't there.
My Young child...why do you curse your parents so...they raised you...supported you did they not?
Don't they love you even when you don't realize their true intentions?
Pull yourself from your eyes of youth and center on the futures holdings of faithful reasonings,
Young One...Do not allow the bad spirits show you the fragility of life...let the good karmic stoics reveal courageous emotions bound for greatness.
A Little Boy:
Old man...you don't realize my father has left me...never been since I was smaller even...and won't be for years to come,
Desperate reckonings he has shown me...I only want to show him I can still be a good son...he doesnt have to leave me anymore,
My mother is abundant only in herself...work and time permit only her selfish immaturities old man don't you see,
I want to find me...and it hasn't let me...life you know...that sparkle my uncles and aunts always tell me about.
Do not let your limitations bound you through shattered illusions that batter the way of life you depict to be,
Do you not want to be great...to rule an empire one day...to lead Athens through philosophical leadership and reasoning?
Bountiful or Dreadful?
Do you prefer both my little citizen of Athens...?
A Little Boy:
No...I wish to follow the bountiful quality you speak of...and why do you speak with such big words,
I am smart and I understand...but why do you hurdle me through hoops with riddles old man?
My son...my fellow citizen...I only send riddles to descend from speech alone...that I may follow your heart to your soul,
This I only do to show you that your an individual...that if no one will see you succeed...then you must succeed so that others will follow your successful tread,
Do you understand my riddle now my son?
Will there be no more absurdities...but admiralty of good faith and reinvention of heart and soul...the gods adore you.
What is your name old man...that I may remember when I get older...so that I may tell others of your wise ways?
Can you let me know more...more about what I am to do in life...what greatness do you speak of that will lead me in stride of the better arenas of life?
--Socrates does not answer, but simply touches the young boy on the head, handing him a piece of bread for taking the time to speak with him, and walks the path he was previously attending, away and gone from view--