BEHOLD

WHO DARES?

WHO CARES?

To hearken unto the summons?
To fill the room of opportunity
with striving sticks and cues
and clicks and pocketed plops
of balls upon honor's green
cloth
field?

Each of us, buried in our own
concerns, burns
in his, her
or their own way the bridge
of opportunity as the golden
chance looms, passes by, and
is forgotten beyond recall. How
long! Must we look back in despair,
grimacing with chagrin over glory
spurned and life unlived? - The true life of
strength and courage exemplified by our father's
fathers and mother's mothers, forsaken by us
all-too-lately for the sake of some momentary
excuse, some inconsequential injury, some
dull
pedestrian
responsibility?

Fie upon such foul sport!
I say thee nay. The plaintive
specter of dispassion and noncombativeness
calls weakly to claim its weekly victims; I reject
it abjectly. That time is over.

The time has come. Each of us
must now rise up and claim the task
that is ours by right: the time is set.

The cue is straight.

The ball is round.

The hall awaits !!

WHO THEN NOW WILL
FAIL TO HEED THE SUMMONS
OF THE CALL TO POOL!?

Not I, said the
fiddly
lil'
dragonfly
.

Your break