The man who played the game of life so well

earlyshift51

There was a man

There was a man who played the game of life so well yet his real thoughts and feelings he could never tell; his real intentions he could never do; his real plans he could never fulfil; his real dreams he could never pursue; his real goals he could only see; his real aims he could only touch; his real ambitions he could only contemplate; his real aspirations he could only hope for; real love he could only imagine; real peace he could only allude to; real contentment he could only suppose; approval he could only wish for; self-confidence and esteem he could only crave – he played the game of life that well. Authenticity was the name of the game; he simply wanted to be himself: to be authentic both to himself and others; to be true to himself and others, to be real to himself and others but each time the man threw the dice in the hope of achieving this it landed guilt side up obliging him to throw yet again. He was determined to throw a truth and finally succeeded. The game was over; he was declared authentic. Now he is who he should be; should always have been and now always will be. It’s up to the other players in the game to concede that; to recognise that he was now no longer playing the game of life their way but at last not playing but living it his way. What side of the dice are you waiting to land?

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