Friday, December 13, 2013

He Feared the Source

He Feared the Source

January 25, 2013 at 1:20pm
In the mountains high above there is a long and twisted road. Its skinny paths bear little else but wasted green turned brown. So every traveler who dares the road brings what he thinks best. But for this moment, I tell of a time and one lost and lonely man who started on the road.

Within his home, the man stood and pondered what he could bear and carry. For once he reached the other side, he knew not what he needed. In all due time, he packed a bag with much to be of use. And with his bag, heavy and weighted, he wandered the curving groove.

For many hours he hiked the hill and up beyond the trees. And in the peaks, all water dried and green was turned to brown. Tumbled weeds and dried up grass marked the forsaken tips. His throat grew dry and thirst was harsh. In the second day of travel he pondered if he should die.

But to his fortune, not far off, in the midst of death and decay, a well stood simple and small. In his thirst, the man knelt down and stared into the well. He licked his lips to quench their parch, his eyes locked on the water. Though as he stared a thought occurred and drove him nigh to madness.

Having never seen nor drank this water, he wondered at its repute. Thirst could take him soon enough, but poison seemed far worse. For while the water could be good and take away his pain, the man was terrified of what could be and therefore sat and cried. His worries made him much afraid and so he chose to sit. Not one sip did he draw from the small and simple well.

Hours passed and for his choice, he had no strength to rise and walk again. So he sat all alone till he died a slow and sorry death.

Was this man wise for his choice? He feared what could make him well. And as would have it, more travelers came, just and thirsty, and stopped beside that well. Cup in hand they drank their fill and found their strength restored.

Two kind souls were nice enough to pause just for the man. They hauled him up into their arms and bore him to a grave. But with a chisel, they carved a stone to mark the six foot hole.

Here lies the man
Who died of thirst
When salvation stood in sight
For though he might have lived more days
He questioned the source
The giver of life

Emily Bergstrom – January 2013