Enter the Jester

Behold, the court jester.

What jest is swimming through his brain?

What new satire, riseth from his heart?

Listening intently, he waits for a cue.

He, who controls the court of kings, he who silences even the throne, with his tales of mirth and myth.

He alone, who takes liberties noblemen dare not attempt.

Listening carefully, he awaits his cue.

They call him a fool, a motley simpleton, there only to entertain.

His is the domain of truth, masked in raucous allegory...jokes at his "majesty's" unwitting expense.

He pays allegiance to only one rule.

Mirth is his King*.

Waiting for his cue.

Enter the Jester.

---

So, I am sitting at work, listening to the the sound of emergencies. Listening to the sound of a hit-and-run motor vehicle incident involving a car and a bicycle. This is the sound I listen to every night. Either that, or listening to 9-1-1 calls where a father tells me his child has died in her sleep. I have been doing this for almost six years now, and I have reached a point, where I am starting to feel the strain of the profession. I have long been able to work through experiencing, vicariously, the horrors of the real world of life and death.

I fear that I am no longer quite as impervious as I once was. I find myself becoming too emotionally attached to the individual situations.

To admit this, I have taken a big step, even though my audience is small.

I recognize that the job I do is considered noble, and I understand that I am doing a great thing by being a part of the lifesaving process.

However, throughout it all, I have always felt like I was waiting for my cue.

Enter the Jester.

*I really hope I didn't cross a line...