Raised On Epic

I was raised on the epic.
Space opera, fantasy, sci-fi,
Worlds and galaxies at war with everything at stake.
Terrible villains, spectacular heroes,
and romances wondrous and predictable.
If I didn’t think I would like the ending I would skip ahead to make sure I would.

I can’t stand a story where the guy doesn’t get the girl.

The reality of one man is rarely so dramatic.
More typically the battle is a rebellious yard,
and the reward is a cup of tea,
with no indication that the beautiful creature you are having it with
is the one, or a one, or anyone
who will ever be anything to you but a friend.

Perhaps not even that.

It seems that God rarely tells us when we are entering the chapter of our lives that we have been waiting for.
He is the master of suspense, you know, and what He really wants us to wait for is Himself.

It takes faith to read a story you can’t skip ahead in.
Especially knowing that you are the protagonist,
the person whom plot and events change,
and that bad things are promised.

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