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Don Yarber Don Yarber
Recommendations: 42

The Emptiness


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Is there more to life than this?


      The Emptiness © 2011 by Don Yarber


       His epitaph read:  “His lips knew the richness of the vintage of lust, his eyes the beauty of the earth, and his soul the emptiness of life.”
       As I stood there, solemnly looking down at the stone, I was thinking.  Yes, his lips had known the richness of the vintage of lust.
       “Barbara,” he had once said, “I don’t love you but I adore your body.”
       And Barbara had answered, “As long as there is a part of me that is pleasing to you, I am happy.”
       And as they loved with their bodies his lips drank of the wine of lust.
       A fine mist of rain blew across my face and I wiped the water away from my eyes.  True, his eyes had known the beauty of the earth.
       “Lorraine,” he had once said, “You have a touch that is warmer than a summer rain, gentler than a fallen leaf and wild as the mountain winds.”
       Lorraine answered, “If I didn’t know that you have been kissed by summer rains, touched by fallen leaves, and braved the mountain winds, I would be hurt instead of flattered by your words.”
       And while the brook trickled freely down the mountainside, they lay together, watching the sun as it sank behind a bank of scarlet streaked skies, and his eyes knew the beauty of the earth.
       I smiled as I read his epitaph and thought of the life he had lived.  Stunning that it should end in such a manner, I thought.  A jealous woman is more dangerous than the combined forces of evil.  Conjure up a wild witch with all her magic potions, fire into her wicked midst a shot from an expert’s rifle, trample her with a herd of wild horses stampeding, blend the remains with the most powerful of vitriols and you have the potential danger of a jealous woman.
       Then, as the gentleman next to me took my arm and turned me away from the fresh grave, I thought of how utterly empty his life had really been.  He had loved, fought, gambled, ventured, and accomplished practically everything that men desire to do; yet somewhere something was missing.  A vital something had been left out.
       I can’t help wondering what it was in life that went wrong.  I mustn’t tarry now, however.  Maybe the secret will be revealed by the gentleman who urges me away from my grave.


                     The End


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