just minishorts.

In an ideal world, we all hope for this to be true: that the pen is mightier than the sword, and those who are able to wield it, only wield and brandish this sword with wise and care.

The sword in the stone, for example, was not drawn by any mere mortal. Arthur was widely acclaimed to be a king and servant-leader who was just, wise yet humble enough to yield his sword with a balanced will of power and servitude.

None of us are mere mortals in this world, and for every one of us, there is a hidden sword within, a skill, that when found, we would be able to use and demonstrate that skill aloud, as allowed. Yes, talent should be honed, and if one can excel at something, due acclaim ought to be accorded. Of course, not everybody is privileged and fortunate enough to retrieve his own Excalibur, which is occasionally double-edged. We acknowledge and celebrate the existence of those fortunate few who stand out. Yes, they do stand out, don't they? And yes, how we celebrate their existence, how gleeful and joyous we are when we speak of the glories and mighty shine of that fabulous, fabulous sword.

And of course, sometimes we lament the discovery of that sword. We know it and feel it, when that the owner of that sword slips and loses his grip. It's worst when the handle becomes slippery just at a time when glory is abound for its owner.

What happens then? We bend, and hide, and sometimes, we run away, because we fear that brandishing sword, now out of control. You never know when you will be beheaded, you see, the blade is careless, it is sharp, so it is essential that we be careful.

And in that moment, sometimes, like now, you wish that that person wasn't allowed to display his skills aloud at first, that you didn't contribute to his glory in the first place. Oh well, alas, what else can we do but hope and pray (of course), that good sense will prevail.