The Buried Talent

I woke up with this thought in my head… the parable of the talents, the story of the buried talent. I left my routine devotion and goggled the parable of the talent in Matthew 25 and I read the parable continuously with the same thought I woke up with in my head.

What if that one talent could speak? What would it have said? Screaming but no one hearing, as the servant poured the earth on it, it must have struggled to be seen wishing that someone would stop the servant.

The buried talent

His hand sweating as he held me,

It didn’t taste like salt, more of confusion and doubt.

He held me tightly in his hand so tight I choked

All I could do was mutter a prayer,

Lord let him use me, I am willing to produce.

He paced up and down in his room, talking to himself

I tried to listen but all I could hear was his inaudible mutter…

I hear him say ‘my master’, his voice with a tone of anger.

He sits, stands, hisses and shakes his head.

Why did I have to be that talent?  Why was I given to him?

I should have hid myself! I should have been picked and given to another.

Deep in my thought I did not realise that he had paced out of the room…

Where am I? Where did he bring me to?

A sigh of relief, as he opens his hand

As he releases me from the grip, he’s made up his mind to use me

Then he began to dig all I kept having flash backs of the master saying each of you given to his own ability. As he dug I could help to think that the master must have been wrong. He has so much strength he dug and dug and threw me in

i screamed, but no one heard, I cried but no one saw my tears. Don’t bury me, I begged him. I have all it takes, I‘ve got all you need use me, let me yield and increase, please use me, use me for anything but please don’t bury me.  The more I screamed the more earth he poured. Then I heard him stump his feet! He stumped harder like an elephant as he walked away.

Under the earth, all alone but not lonely, It wasn’t the loneliness that got to me, it was unproductivity, the denial of opportunity, I imagined how the others had flourished, nourished and replenished.

Every day I prayed that someday I would be found by one who would understand my purpose, my ability to increase, my capacity to multiply, my tendency to enlarge and my propensity to make wealth.

I hear footsteps, but very familiar footsteps, hear digging, I have been found but by him who buried me? Maybe he wants to change my location and still keep me buried…

It was my master that dug me up, not the one who buried me, but the one who ordained me.

I have been called up to testify against my master and In the presence of the Master, the story of increase by the others made me cry. I was ready to tell the master of my pain when my master sorry servant spoke.  His words filled with excuses and he points at me with regret.

Then I spoke yes master he is slothful! He used all his strength to bury me, he buried me!




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