Just Locks And Chains

When the Prodigal Son returned home for the second time, his father, all joy and forgiveness, announced a party at once. And at once set to work. Even the most distant relative was summoned, and people nearby, even strangers just passing through this vicinity of joy, were invited. All of them crowded around the boy, jostling for the best place, breathing the available air, leaving him gasping, unable to answer their blandishments. He broke free, when his father was occupied, and found an open spot on the second level. He was drinking too much wine, gulping down glass after glass, as the servants dutifully responded. Below, he saw his father in the midst of a pack of servants, some carrying wine flasks, others trays of food. His father was giving them expert directions, pointing here and there, even waving up to his eldest son. The boy was shocked, How could he possibly find me? Then he saw his three younger brothers warily staring up at him, making no effort to turn their sneers into smiles. Abruptly, they vanished into the huge banquet hall... Around midnight, sated with wine and people, the honored guest slipped away, avoiding eye-contact, and walked down an immense hallway which connected this southern wing of his father's sprawling mansion with its two northern wings. "All this will be yours, my dear son, " he smiled over his eldest son the day before his first escape attempt. He sheepishly returned on his own, mumbling excuses and lies. His second attempt was equally futile as agents of his father surprised him at the fortified border center and kept watch over him, until the strings that bound him to his family, stretched taut, suddenly snapped him back... Now he was walking drunkenly down the connecting corridor, confused and angry. He reached an immense stone chair. He climbed awkwardly to the seat, and sprawled in its excess space. The stone chair was a relic of a lost age when men were still giants roaming the earth. Legendary warriors, they wore no armor, they carried no weapons. They wrestled their way to dominion but no one stayed on top for long. There were always new wrestling matches, with challengers gloating, there were new conquests to achieve, new widows to pursue... He awoke suddenly, after several hours of drunken sleep. His dream had dispelled his stupor: it displayed a wide road unfolding for miles of forest and prairie. He bolted from the giants' chair, and ran, stumbling, breathing heavily, down the hollow corridor, echoes of his haste bombarding the walls. His father, his younger brothers, the guests would all be sunk in deep sleep, having been guided to their chambers by sober servants. It was easy to get some of them to prepare a horse and supplies for him. Once mounted, he followed the upward curving slope of the road to an elevation, where he paused but did not dismount. Looking down on his father's opulent mansion, he was puzzled. This has never been my home, he thought. Let my brothers wrestle for it! My place is elsewhere. "Good-bye, dear father, " he spoke softly into the still morning air. "You tried to give me everything, but it was all just chains and locks! All I want, all I need is to breathe ample air freely." At his signal, the horse began to gallop down the road, which widened with every mile.