THE SHEPHERD AND THE PRINCE

As the flock of sheep, moved towards the greener pasture, eating up the present with eyes on the future, the shepherd hangs back and watches, his staff in his right hand, his rod in his left.

As the Prince stands and surveys his walled city, the masses trade, and live and the hustle and bustle of life reverberates through the monuments of stone, the prince holds a measuring line in his hand, for he must build and build, till there is nothing left to build, for the masses must always book forward to something if not the next monument, it could be revolution, the princes hand tightens on the measuring line.

The Shepherd sleeps amongst the sheep and finds comfort in there soft woolen bodies, he will give his life for his sheep, his sword in his left hand as he sleeps.

The Prince sleeps amongst the soft yielding bodies of newly acquired concubines he cannot sleep and the concubines cannot keep awake he sweats as he prepares for the next day. Dreams unfulfilled.

The Shepherd and the prince are one and the same, the confluence is in the pain of unjust expectations and the pleasure of fulfilled dreams.