When you suddenly become a star, nay, the star or even THE SUPERSTAR.
The crowd is in a frenzy cheering.
The Klieg lights are blinding.
The strobes keep flashing.
Songs of varying genre are rendered in your praise.
When the chants have waned,
and the lights are off,
then is the time for reality.
Time to wake up to the fact that IT IS MUCH EASIER TO GET TO THE TOP THAN TO STAY THERE.
Expectations are high.
They think he has a magic wand.
Yesterday his words and actions may not mean much. But today, his idle wink is interpreted and misinterpreted.
Sycophants, hangers on and clowns jostle for his attention.
Some would even kill to get on the pages of his good book.
Too much of his time, which by now is in short supply, is now spent listening to gibberish.
Too little time is available for positive reasoning.
Worse still if he’s of the dark skinned species of Homo Sapiens.
Like Abacha he loses touch with the real world and becomes a slave to his henchmen.
He may even metamorphose into a Konstituted Megalomaniac.
When great expectations are not met and the magic wand fails to sparkle, then the music changes and so the dance steps.
But to keep the crown, THE REAL STAR looks beyond the crowd and the lights. He acknowledges the Cheers but concentrates on keeping on rendering good songs till the curtain drops.
He must keep the promises that brought them to the arena.
He must not be swayed into losing sight of his rolling plans and blue prints.
Then, when the curtain is dropping, the crowd shouts for M O R E ! ! !
But if you keep your eyes on glitterati and your ears glued to the cheers that egg you on you will soon be a
FALLEN STAR, black and burnt out, without it’s shine.
You would have lost a chance to be a LEGEND, a REALĀ STAR.
