**The Banquet of Wisdom and the Allure of Folly**

In the golden glow of dawn, where the first light of the sun kissed the high places of the city, Wisdom had built her house. It stood upon seven mighty pillars, carved from the finest stone, each one a testament to the unshakable foundation of truth. The walls gleamed with the luster of righteousness, and the gates stood open wide, inviting all who would enter.

Wisdom herself, radiant as the morning, had prepared a great feast. Her maidens moved with grace through the halls, setting tables with the richest of foods—wine aged to perfection, bread warm from the oven, and meats seasoned with the spices of understanding. The aroma drifted through the streets, a fragrant call to the hungry and the seeking.

Then, with a voice clear as a trumpet, Wisdom stood at the highest point of the city and called out:

*”Whoever is simple, let him turn in here!”*

*”To him who lacks understanding, she says,”*

*”Come, eat of my bread and drink of the wine I have mixed.”*

*”Forsake foolishness and live, and walk in the way of insight.”*

Her words carried on the wind, reaching the marketplace, the fields, and the quiet homes where the weary sat. Some lifted their heads, their hearts stirred by the invitation. Among them was a young man, his feet dusty from wandering, his mind clouded with uncertainty. He had chased after empty pleasures, had listened to the loud voices of folly, but now, the call of Wisdom resonated deep within him.

As he approached the house, he saw the beauty of its craftsmanship, the care in every detail. Wisdom welcomed him with a smile that held the warmth of a thousand suns. “Come,” she said, “sit and dine with me. The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, and knowledge of the Holy One is understanding.”

The young man sat among the gathered guests—elders who had walked in righteousness, mothers who had taught their children well, and youths who had chosen the path of life. Together, they feasted, not just on food, but on words of truth that nourished the soul. Wisdom spoke of the Lord’s ways, of justice, of prudence, and of the blessings that come to those who heed her voice.

But not all listened.

In the shadows of the city, where the alleys twisted and the air hung thick with deceit, another voice called out. Folly sat at the door of her own house, perched on a crooked seat, her garments gaudy and her lips painted with false charm. She too cried out to the passersby, but her words were twisted, her invitation a snare.

*”Stolen water is sweet, and bread eaten in secret is pleasant!”* she whispered, her voice dripping with honeyed lies.

A different young man, one who had hesitated at Wisdom’s gate, turned his ear toward Folly’s call. The promise of forbidden pleasure lured him, and with a reckless heart, he stepped into her house. But inside, there was no feast—only emptiness. The wine was bitter, the bread stale, and the laughter hollow. The guests there were the dead—those who had traded life for momentary thrill, who now sat in the darkness of their choices.

As night fell, the house of Wisdom remained a beacon, its light undimmed, while Folly’s dwelling crumbled into ruin. The young man who had chosen Wisdom walked in peace, his path illuminated by truth. But the one who had followed Folly stumbled in the shadows, not knowing that her way led only to destruction.

And so the words echoed through eternity:

*”The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, and the knowledge of the Holy One is insight.”*

*”For by me your days will be multiplied, and years will be added to your life.”*

*”But he who sins against me wrongs his own soul; all who hate me love death.”*

Thus, the banquet of Wisdom stood ever open, her call unceasing—a refuge for those who would listen, a light for those who would see.