The Poet's Fable
By Peter Rehard
The Poet's Fables
Peter Rehard
Copyright Peter Rehard 2011
Smashwords Edition
Dedicated to the Reader
Chapter One
My father said:
Well, it was when I was a child. There had been rumors that a man was traveling the country side telling stories to anyone who would listen. People said the stories were strange, boring; but no one said that they were bad. He had never before visited our town, and so when I heard that he might, I was excited.
I remember it well. My friends and I were outside my house. Back then we would go to the fields and play, but that day it was clouded. We sat on the stone in front of my door. A boy that we didn’t like, a real liar, came running. He was screaming as loud as he could, “The poet’s coming! He is in the fields!” When he stopped yelling two of my friends grabbed the boy and threw him on the ground (because they thought he was lying then). The boy said that his brother had seen the poet coming over the big hill and that he spoke the truth.
We all believed him then and everyone in the town knew something was going to happen. All business was closed early, the men came home, and the women hurried meals. My dad came home three hours before he usually did, looking like he knew more about the poet than I did. I asked him, but he wouldn’t say anything. Everyone knew something by their look, but they wouldn’t talk of it openly. Later that night, after dinner my father said that we were going to go to the town square. The square had a large, round stage in its middle and I thought the poet would be there.
Well, when the sun finally set we started to walk to the square. There were hundreds of people already there, sitting on the floors and benches. The square was full of expectation, it was in the air, like we were waiting for it to rain. I wanted to go sit with my friends, but my father would not let me. It felt like we waited for hours, and I just looked at all the other families and kids my age, trying not to be anxious.
Later in the night, the mayor came on the stage to make an announcement. Everyone began to cheer. The kids my age screamed, the father’s whistled, the girls smiled, and the ladies clapped barely touching their hands. The mayor said that our town was blessed with a visitor. We all knew who that visitor was though. He then asked us to give our full attention to the man. My Father looked at me and said to be quiet, but I kept staring at the stage giving him no mind.
A man walked up the steps of the stage. He was like any other man. Not as big as my father, or strong. He looked like he knew secrets or was afraid of them. His face was dark and sunken. His body and hair were frail and thin, but it seemed like he had a great strength in him somewhere. At the same time he looked in constant pain, like he was turning himself inside out. His eyes were wide open, like they saw things I couldn't. I could not tell how old he was, or where he was from.
When he made it up the stairs, he came to the center of the stage and looked at us. We were dead silent. No one said a word, or coughed or sneezed. I did not even breathe. He looked at us and then at the sky. We could hardly contain ourselves. He looked from the sky to us and said, “Do you men, and women, girls and boys want to hear stories of adventure; excitement and murder; far away lands; people; love and hate; battles and armies; gods, demons; fame and riches,” When he said that everyone clapped and yelled but he wasn’t finished. He said last, “Or stories of men and women like you?”
I didn’t want to here those last stories and neither did anyone else, so we all screamed for the parts that we wanted to hear. Some kids screamed for murder, or adventure, some men yelled for war, and like wise for all the people; when the poet heard the answer he looked despondent and rubbed his eyes and forehead. He was disappointed and said, “I do not know those stories, or at least I can not tell them to you.” He turned around and walked down the steps and off stage. Just like that without another word.
I nearly cried, and all the boys yelled, girls pouted, mothers grew irritated and men cursed. The poet walked away, across the street, past the shops and went towards the woods. Meanwhile the families went home and cursed the poet. The whole town was up by sunrise the next day as it was a holiday. The Fathers were outside going about errands or doing chores, and mothers cooked breakfast; us children were out standing around waiting for the day to begin. No one spoke. We all waited for a word or explanation of what happened the night before. I personally wondered where the poet was.
I went to meet my friends after breakfast. I asked them what they heard and they said they had heard nothing. Before noon, the town warmed up to speak and sat around talking about how much they hated the poet (because they thought he was going to tell them stories of adventure and all those things people love hearing about); the adults said the same things as the children, only in a more mature way.
I went home for lunch and after my father pulled me aside and said, “Now tonight, you know, the poet is going back to the square. We're going too, so make sure you’re back here before sundown.” I did not really want to see the poet, but at the same time I was curious to know what made his face look so sad.
My friends felt the same way as I did, but they would not admit that a part of them wanted to see him. I was afraid to tell them I was going with my family, because I did not want them to tease me. When it got later in the day and I had to go, they suspected it and accused me. I did not really think too much of it then, I just ran home.
There were far less people there that night, only about eighty. This time the mayor did not come on the stage, but the poet walked up the same way and said the same thing, “Do you men, and women, girls and boys want to hear stories of adventure, excitement, and murder; far away lands, people, and armies; kings, demons, love and hate; fame and riches or stories of men and women like you?” However now we all said we wanted to hear songs about ourselves.
The poet smiled. It was the quietest night I’ve ever heard, even the crickets were listening. There was not a cloud in the sky, and the light of the stars and moon filled the square. The poet uplooked at the stars and moon continuing to smile and the sadness drifted off of his face. He did not seem so hurt after that. He straightened his back, pushed his hair straight. His smiled grew wider.
He began to walk back and forth across the stage and we were wondering if he would even say another word, or if he would keep on telling himself the stories in his head. We waited and when he finally spoke, I was surprised that he jumped right into the story.
The Poet said:
When the Gods first made man, they made twelve. They took up fistfuls of Earth, and fire, and water, and heaven and earth; molded it over thousands of years into man. Their father gave them life to put inside of the shells. They made at first twelve and once they were finished the gods placed them: six men and six women into a field with a two streams running through its center.
There were forests along the edges of the field and the humans were squared in, but they had all they needed. There was enough food: from the trees and earth, and water: from rain and the rivers to provide for them; it never was too hot or cold.
The gods were pleased with themselves, and sat in heaven looking down on man. For thousands of years they watched (because a thousand years to a god is like one to us) without anything happening. The gods grew furious with rage and irritation because they believed man would do great things for them. In fact they made man and women to worship them, but the gods received no offerings, dedications, praise, or honor.
Mankind sat around the fields. When one was hungry he would walk over to a tree and pluck a fruit from it, or pull from the ground a vegetable. When he was thirsty he would walk to the streams and kneeling down, sip the clean water. There was no lacking of necessity as he bore himself fruit, adding to the race.
After three-thousand years mankind had birthed ten-thousand men. The large group dotted the field like flowers or blades of grass. In that time the humans’ lives lasted for many years and they did not feel a need to mate often; but enjoyed peaceful lives. They never fought or argued and did not do much of anything but sleep. At night the men and women would gather together, looking at the stars, falling asleep one by one.
The gods looked at man with disdain for they seemed like all the other failed animals that did nothing. Man was no different from ducks or whales, wanting nothing more than what they had. The gods looked down and thought they had wasted time and effort to make man different. They said to each other, “Look at the other animals that fill the earth. They go about only eating, breeding, and sleeping. Do they know anything; those creatures do not fight or worry, they do not even have desires. Man is foolish like them and does not know they should worship us.”
They ordered a meeting and tried to figure out what could be done. One god called for their termination, another god said that they should be controlled, but another (I do not know which god it was) said that each god should go down and give man a gift. They agreed to give man gifts, parts of themselves; but the wisest god of all begged to have one chance to awaken mankind. He said, “Let me go down to man and I will give life to the thoughts in his head.” However, the other gods were not in agreement with him. One of the gods said, “If you go down to man and he sees you, he will never worship us. You can not go!”
The wise god said, “I will disguise myself as a man, taking off my robe and gold, and bathe so my heavenly odor drifts away. I will talk and eat like him; I will be man, and I will find the best one and teach him.”
The gods did not like the idea, but he was the wisest of all gods and they had no choice but agree. During the late hours of night, the wise god stripped bare and practiced to make his actions and habits seem like a human’s. He came down from heaven through the clouds and landing in the woods where no once could see him, prepared one last time, before making his way into the field before the sun rose.
No human saw anything like the god before. His odor and face was not quite human. Men and women sniffed around him, touching his face and arms. They did so for hours until one man walked away, and the rest followed, leaving the wise god standing alone.
The wise god was taken aback but did not give up. He followed the humans to the river, but they only looked at him suspiciously. They would not talk to him. He went to the forest and gathered fruit as a present, but the humans would not eat. He tried to be friendly, smiling and showing them affection, but the humans did not understand. The human race did not understand the god and paid him no mind: they walked away.
For two days he tried to become a part of the group with no avail. After thinking for many hours the wise god came upon a scheme. One morning he placed a fruit in the center of the field. When the humans woke up and saw the fruit they were confused, because nothing like that had ever happened. They smelled the fruit, kicking it around, and then tossed it back and forth until they lost interest. The wise god placed a fruit in the field every day for seven days and the humans acted the same each time; but on the eighth day he placed the fruit there after the humans had woken up.
The men and women watched him with much interest, looking from the fruit to him, wondering if he would come pick it up, or if he would be angry if they touched it. A younger man came and ate the fruit and they forgot for the day. The next morning the wise god did not put a fruit in the center of the field. The humans woke up and looked for the fruit and seemed disappointed. They looked at the wise god where he sat, and at where the fruit should have been. The race of mankind did not understand.
But there was a man who was not like the others. He came to the wise god and said, (in his language) “Why?” Now when the wise god heard this he was filled with joy for he thought his mission was a success. That night he slipped from the band of humans and journeyed back to heaven.
In heaven he told the other gods his story and they laughed. He implored them to wait and watch mankind, because in time they would change. The gods however did not think like him, and certainly did not want to wait thousands of more years to receive the benefits that they thought would be gained from man. The other gods said, “Are we expected to wait year after year, receiving nothing for our hard labors, being ignored by our creations. Man should be piling gold and sacrificing to us. The humans should be using their time to honor us.”
The gods said that they must go to earth and give mankind parts of themselves. The wise god was hurt: no one gave him their ear. The next day, in the middle of the afternoon, all the gods of heaven (except the wise god) went down to earth, and met man in their large field.
Glowing with light and power, smelling of incense, large and monstrous, they confronted man. The humans were scared to death. In a panic they ran from one side of their plain to the other, jumping, screaming, crying; they would not look at the gods, or listen to them. The gods felt abandoned by their creations, but still would not give up. They chased after the men and women, boys and girls.
When ever able to keep hold of one, they would breathe on him their essence, and give them their special traits. There were many gods and many gifts. One god taught man how to craft things with his hands, another how to tame beast. Man was taught how to plant crops and harvest, he was taught how to hunt and trap animals. Some were given unparalleled strength and others keen sight and aim. And there were good gods who tried to show mankind justice, and self control, and how to be courageous (but at that time they did not understand what the gods were teaching), or how to honor the gods and follow what was right.
The most beautiful of all the goddesses touched some and made them fair and sweet, and her sister showed mankind how to love. However, evil gods also lived in heaven and they taught mankind to desire things inside the earth, craving power and fame; teaching man deceit, evil, cowardice, and selfishness. They unleashed a cloud on the human race.
The humans did not know how to react to their gifts: some cried, others continued acting in frenzy, others immediately employed what they were given; but mankind felt strange. The gods believed they had done man a service (and themselves a benefit) flying back to their resting places in the heavens. Keep your minds to the point and not what I sat as though its truth.
They called the wise god foolish, saying, “Look! Look at man now. In hours we accomplished this and you wanted us wait hundreds of years.” The wise god looked down on the earth and saw man: a group was cutting down the timbers of the forest, while another was hunting beasts further in the woods. Some men were building houses out of mud from the river and others erected structures with logs. Women were fashioning clothing, while others were looking at themselves in the streams. Men and women mated and slept and ate. Man was changed.
The wise god saw a large group of men fighting each other and many lying on the ground beside them dead. Men were digging into the dirt planting seeds and there were those looking for ore and jewels. The wise god began to cry, but his fellow gods only laughed at him and said, “You fool! Why do you cry when something so great has happened? Are you crying out of joy?” The wise god was lamenting.
“No,” he said, “I am sad at what has happened to man, because you all do not remember the past; you know nothing of what is right or wrong.” By that time the gods had forgotten. They did not remember the years when their father gave them immortality. The gods mocked the wise god, and he left that part of heaven forever. Bellow man paid tribute to the gods.
He continued to look down at man and over time saw the once empty plain turn into a vast city. When man outgrew their homes, and harvested the forest barren, they moved off and spread themselves slowly across the world. The wise god pitied mankind. His grief was so strong that it led him speak to his father, who ruled the heavens.
The wise god rose up through the second firmament and came to the throne of his father. His father was even wiser than him. It is said that the ruler of the gods knew all things that had past, did, and would ever happen, because he made the worlds. So when his son came to him, he knew not only what his son would say, but what he wanted.
“Father,” said the wise god, “my brothers and sisters have hurt man beyond repair. They have turned them into us. I do not know what to do. I can not watch them suffer, for I helped make them and they are like my children.”
The ruler of the gods said, “A time comes when children are set free to become what has been set for them. I have watched my own defile me by going against what they naturally must desire (good). I saw them create men, though I had planned it before I made you all, I allowed it to be their task; they have failed attempting to make man a tribute. Now the children of the gods: man, must become what he is.”
“Father?” said the wise god, “may I go to earth and help man?” The father of the gods said, “No, it is not the time, but know the hour soon looms when the unjust gods will be cast from heaven into the earth and mankind’s suffering will be doubled.” The wise god asked, “Why must man suffer so?” His father said, “Because, my son, how else can he be true?”
The wise god went back to his hidden corner in heaven and sat looking down on man. Late in the night his sister, Hope, came to him and said, “Look brother. Look at that man.” and the wise god saw the man whom he had talked to conversing with other humans, going from one group to another (at this time that man had long gray hair and a beard), pleading with them to listen.
The wise god cried when he saw him in the night sitting alone below the stars looking up at heaven. He devised another plan. During the late hours, he sank down to earth when the gray bearded man was asleep. He crept to the man side and whispered into his ear, “For the truth.” but when he spoke the old man started to wake up.
He quickly ran, being forbidden to be seen, but the gray headed man saw him; thought it was the day because the wise god shined like the beams of the sun. From that point on the gray headed man became a wise man and did good things upon the earth, but the wise god still pained with mankind for many years.
The time came, that the ruler of the gods spoke of, and he came to his son and said, “Now I will cast all the gods from heaven; but you will remain and from now on sit on the right side of my throne and we will make a new world and new heaven. However I saw what you did for mankind. I had forbid you to contact them and now their lives will be made much worse. I will have to cast a haze between the heavens and earth so that they can not find things truly.”
The ruler of the gods sent a wind through heaven and all of his children (except his wise son) were caught by its strength and thrown to earth. The Ruler of the gods said “Son, I will remake heaven.” He formed the massive firmament into seven rings, and made a throne separate. He told his son, “Now we will sit in heaven and watch man to see if he ever comes to know what is right. With so much evil beside him if he can attempt to believe and follow in good he will have done good. His reward would have been much more precious had you not touched him, for when he came upon the ideas nothing would have stopped him from reaching the truth. It could have been a pure understanding but it can never be so now. His punishment will be to never know, that is until his soul is set free.”
The earth was filled with good and bad gods, and they spread across the world like a plague, teaching, persuading, forcing upon mankind their desires and beliefs; man honored them. Temples and shrines were constructed, and humans bowed before their new rulers; but many good gods were on the earth and for man, Hope, gave them much strength to go on.
The wise god followed the generations of the wise man, from heaven. He saw them do beautiful things. Some became men of thought, while others told stories, painted, sculpted, or sang. Some of the wise man’s descendants went on to create laws and became philosophers; or tried to do other good things on earth in science and theory. However their actions were small next to all of the wrong on the planet. He kept faith in his father and sister, but pitied the human race.
When the poet finished this story he grew silent and gazed back up at the stars. Each of us followed his direction and looked up. The stars that night were strong and their lights cuts through space.
I remember thinking that each one of them was placed their by a god, and it hung in the heavens as a reminder that we are only one thing. Now I do not know if it was because I was young and tired or if there was magic in the air, but I remember a meteorite shower. The shooting stars cut across the sky moving in all direction and they looked like light elegant lines. They would fade and another star would make its descent painting the sky behind. It lasted for twenty minutes and despite its beauty the crowd was silent.
Once it finished there was an aura in the night and a blue haze of dust. The moon danced behind the mist and all the men and women there felt something (I do not know what it was). We all were amazed and still looking up when the poet’s voice broke the silence.
He said:
I am not a great man, nor have I done and seen great things. I have seen much and done much, but they were not great. I reflect back on all that has happened to me and I see that it was inevitable and the events I found myself in would have continued the same way, whether I was there or not. I was a witness and today I will retell my life; that is my purpose.
I do not speak to you men and women to entertain you, or teach you because I can do neither. I can only tell you of myself so that you all can know (it is my obligation or purpose). What it is you might come to know or benefit from, that is beyond me. The heavens have ordained that I be here at this moment to speak to you; yet I have an idea of what the purpose for all of this is.
I always felt as though I had lived in a dream. Not because I have no control, or that it did not make sense, but because it never seemed real. It took my whole life to see why nothing seemed true except the wilderness and will take more to live their freely and unrestrained by myself.
What I am speaking of is my own search. Men call it a search for happiness, or contentment, or the meaning of life; but I never wanted more than I had. All that I ever wanted was to be, and be free. Some men live for love, or honor. Others live for riches and ease. I have seen men who live for their families; but, I always lived to live. I do not mean I lived for the pleasures of life. I am saying I lived to live. In the end my search was a simple one. I only had to realize I never could find what I looked for.
Chapter Two
We all were subdued by the poet’s speech. His voice was not the most pleasing, or dulcet. It sounded as he looked: sad and pained, but under the voice was another person, and another life. That man, the man behind the poet seemed peaceful and loving (but I was just a small boy with an imagination).
The poet paced back and forth. He breathed heavy and loud saying, “All stories begin at some point in time. Mine began many years ago. Even though I look old, I do not seem as old as I am. What I did, what I speak of, who I speak of, those are not important as the ideas I am telling. If I was to retell each thing that I ever saw and did, each person I talked to, and each girl I loved or courted, my friends, we would be here for years. This is a story of things appearing to be what they are not. Things appearing to be what they are not, remember.
“Many story tellers would not say that so simply. They take pride in other men finding out their secret meanings, but I do not. Nor do I want to appear to be something that I am not. You may ask me, ‘Why do you speak of these things?’ Well, men and women, it was what happened.
“The first part of my story is how I was woken up, and changed into another person in a matter of days. In all the stories I will tell, I am searching for my personal truth, but what I say of myself does not matter; the stories are the subjects. So know that at times I may say my feelings and thoughts, but the story itself is what matters.”
We stayed deathly silent and the poet said:
The town I was born in laid behind a mountain, in a valley bellow. The mountain was south of us and the coast near. We were secluded and separate from the rest of the world. I do not know how we came to live there or how so many people found the place. I do not even remember the name. We were a place of ourselves and only rarely did men come to it and leave.
There was a man for each need, or desire. Some made wine, grew crops and vegetables. Other men forged metals, made tools, worked with wood and shaped pottery. It was a place like most with entertainers, herdsman, and officials; all parts of a city.
My families place in it, I never knew. My family was poor and we lived off of others (there were types like this also). In the morning my father would send me to beg in the streets, and if I came home with nothing he beat me, but if I came home with something of value or food he would smile and hug me saying, “What a good son I have. What a good son the fates bless me with.”
My father did not care if I stole food or people’s possessions. He told me, “If a man allows you to take something, he doesn’t deserve to have it. It is not a bad thing to take.” I never knew if my father took things from others or what he did with his time. I only saw him at night and never in town.
As a child all I was certain of was that I was hungry and not doing what I should be; but I did not want to be beaten so I would steal when I could. It would make my father relieved, but it generally made me feel sick. It meant that I had to go through the streets and ask for things. It meant that I had to commit wrong. Well, I did not have to.
My father was not a good man. He would beat my mother saying, “Why is there no dinner?” My mother would cry, “Because we have no food.” She would ask him not to and he would hit her. I did not have brothers or sisters. I would spend most of the day and night away from my parents. This was hard for me since the people of that town knew I was a beggar.
The people there ignored me, but a few would attack if I came close to them screaming out, “Thief! Thief! He stole my money. Help me!” They would hit me, and hold on to my neck or arms until an officer came. They would tell the officer, “You must keep dogs like this off the street. They eat the waste, but bite the hand of their masters.” I did not know what it meant at the time, but still I knew I did not like to get hit; officers used sticks.
I did not feel bad for myself, because I did not think at that point in my life. I never questioned or wondered. I only thought: this is how it is and it must be as good as it can be. I said to myself, “I am just a boy, what else is there? I do what I must do.” One morning my father sent me to beg and I saw two men walking in the same direction on opposite sides of the street. One man had fine clothing on and an appealing appearance. He had necklaces, rings and jewels, expensive shoes, and soft gloves. He walked like he was valuable and he did not want to break himself.
I saw the people in the streets looking at him as if there was no better man on earth. I thought that man was in control of himself and the people around him. I figured that for a man to look like him he must be honorable and just, he also must be wise and strong to deal with so much good. People waved and smiled, the young girls giggled, and I thought that the boys admired him and men envied him. He walked smoothly and slowly and the town’s people thought he was magnificent.
On the left side of the street a poor man walked. I never saw him begging before. I knew he must stay secluded and go wanting for many things. His hair and beard were white and uncouth; dried with dirt. He had one piece of clothing (it seemed like a curtain) wrapped around his body as a tunic or robe. His skin was sunburned and spotted and his nails were long and filthy; but, his eyes had life in them, because they held the sunlight. I felt pity for him: he had no shoes and his feet were blistered and calloused.
I saw the people looking down upon him, laughing at his appearance. They jibed at him with their mouths and jabbed with their fingers. The young boys mocked him, walking slowly behind, limping and moaning, falling down pretending to die; then laughing. The girls held their noses; women held their children and men in general scowled. But the poor man kept walking as if he had no concern of others. I did not think he was a very good man.
I was walking in the middle of the street, towards the opposite direction of the two men. I was so consumed with them I payed no attention to where I went and bumped into an older man that I thought should have been dead long before. He had a gray beard that hung down to his stomach and a lost appearance, with only a few teeth. He said, “Fine day is it not?” I said, “Fine.” He looked at me and asked, “Or is it good?”
“Good.” I said. He snorted and told me, “Maybe a well day.” I was confused, saying nothing, and only giggled. He smiled at me and continued, “Or it could just be a day. What do you think?” I said, “I think it is good and bad or neither. I am not sure.”
When I finished the old man smiled wide and laughed saying “The boy says things, he certainly says things. What do you think? Oh, I don’t know. I can not say anymore these days—but about the good and bad? Oh, yes! That can not be true.” He held me by the shoulders and said, “Sometimes things look like other things and seem to be what they are not.” Now he laughed louder and I grew afraid thinking he was insane. He laughed so loudly that his spit hit my face.
I tried to pull away but he held me tighter and said, “Tell me. Tell an old man one thing. Who would you rather be,” he pointed to the wealthy man and then at the wanting man, “for the rest of your life?”
I looked at them both and considered it an easy choice. I said “The one who has everything.” The Old man asked, “Which one?’ I pointed at the one in fine clothing and he said, “What else would you choose? Ask any man if they would rather be rich or poor and the answer the same.” Again I tried to pull away, but he would not let go, saying, “Now go and see what you are?”
I did not understand him and I asked, “Where should I go to see that?” The old man moved his head around and said, “You see the future of yourself in others you want to be.” I asked what I should do then, because I was just a little boy. “Go and follow the man you want to be,” he said, dancing and tripping and stumbling away without any path in mind.
I walked off shaking my head from his madness, but stopped and for some reason decided to follow what he said and the wealthy man. I turned around and crept twenty paces behind him, slowly coming up the path. Then all of a sudden I stopped again. I had no desire to follow him, or interest, and as I stopped I saw that there were four other people following him. I didn’t know if they were flatterers or crooks, friends or enemies; but I did not want to follow that man.
I looked to the other side of the street and saw the man with nothing. I do not know why but I ran across to his side, and followed behind him. There was no one matching his steps except me. He smelled sour, and I began to regret following him; but I kept going.
He was walking towards the woods, but there was still much city between and many people. Every person seemed to believe that the wanting man was going to ask for something and never met his eyes. People would look to the ground but the wanting man always looked straight at them. He was friendly and would say hello if a person acknowledged him. It was sad to see because people treated him like he was diseased or worse not even there.
There was a young child on the streets, sitting alone. When the wanting man approached, he reached into the folds of his robe and pulled out a loaf of bread for the boy. The boy hugged him. Further down the street he met a man in horrible condition, with boils on his face and arms. The wanting man produced a small container and began to rub an ointment on his wounds and blemishes. The sick man thanked the wanting one for all of his compassion. The sick man said, “You are a truly good person in a city with none.
Between the boy and sick man, the wanting man received much disdain from passer-byes and was pushed into the streets, and onto the ground. People yelled at him to bathe, and to live off of himself and not the fat of their hide. The wanting man could not be discouraged, he kept walking.
Close to the end of the city, he met a woman (she walked the streets), and she smiled at him. He reached out and laid his hand on her face and said she would be okay in time. Last, before passing by the last wall, there were four mean men beating another. The wanting man came up behind them and said, “Here take this money and leave him alone.” Reaching into his robe he pulled a sack of coins out and dropped it into the largest man’s hand.
The four criminals looked confused and one said, “Why even bother? We would have taken the money from him. Why give up what you have? I am sure you do not have much.” The wanting man said, “I would rather go without something if by it I can prevent another person from suffering.” The leader of the four said, “I do not understand you. If you plan to accuse us of some crime later, or are tricking us, we will make you pay.”
I followed him into the woods, and down to the coast. It was a hard trek with rough rocks and sharp vines, made harder by his own speed. He went swiftly through the forest. I managed to keep up with him and when I broke the crest of the trees, near the coast, I came into the light and he was standing there looking at me.
He said, “For what did you follow me, boy?” I stuttered, “You knew I was following you?” The wanting man said, “Of course I did. You’re not invisible.” I was speechless; not afraid, but more embarrassed because I did not know why I had followed him. He smiled though, being a friendly man and invited me to his home.
He lived in a damp cave near the ocean. There was only a little pit for a fire and brush to sleep on. He carved lines into the walls, forming swirling masses. He told me to sit on his brush bed as he lit a fire. When the fire grew, he placed a pot over it, suspended by sticks and filled it with water, roots, carrots, and cabbage. As the pot gurgled he asked me, “Now why did you follow me?” I did not know what to say, so I told the truth. I told him, “I was walking in the streets and an old man stopped me. He was strange and asked me a question.” He asked what the question was and I said, “It was: who would I rather be? You were walking on one side of the street and another man opposite. The old man asked me which one and I picked the other man.”
The wanting man looked into my eyes and said, “But that doesn’t explain why you followed me. If you picked the other man, shouldn’t you be following him?” I told him, “I did follow him, but decided I did not want to be like that man.” The wanting man asked, “What did he look like?” I described, “He had on expensive looking clothing and jewelry. I don’t remember his face all so well.”
“Now boy,” the man said, “what would make you decide you don’t want to be a man everyone loves (because that is who that man is) and then follow me of all people, looking as I do?” I said I did not know and he asked if I had eaten, or was hungry. I said yes, but that I did not think I should take food from him.
He kept sight on my eyes and said, “Because I seem to have nothing? I offer what I can give. I can give you dinner. Would you like some?” I said I would be grateful and pleased with that. “While we eat would you be interested in a story?” he asked and I told him I would, as he poured me a bowl of broth.
The wanting man said, “A long time ago there was a good father with two sons. His sons were twins, born from one mother; she died when they were very young. The father being a good man wanted his sons to be the best men they could be. He spared no expense in their learning. The boys trained in foreign language, geometry, athletics, astronomy, poetry, and history. Later on in their youth, for a brief period, they took up philosophy an oratory. The boys became learned in their brief age.
“Their father was a rich man, with much land; they had more gold than one could ever use. His sons would never have to work and know the sweat in ones own food, but could go on to do great things and help change the world. This was the plan the father had for his children.
“On the boys’ sixteenth birthday their father told his two sons that when he died he would leave all of his possessions split between. One of the brothers grew greedy and cunning because he wanted the gold more than anything; yet, the other brother grew suspicious of his own father’s health (he loved his father a great deal) and did not want him to pass away.
“For the next year the greedy brother schemed and made plans to take his father’s fortune, but the loving brother spent every hour with his father. One day the father told his loving son his mind was failing and soon he would be dead. The loving son went to his brother, crying, saying that soon their father would be dead and begged his brother to come be with their father in his last moments (the greedy son had spent no time with him since he became ill). The greedy brother said that he would not be told what to do by his younger brother and that he should be quiet before he gets hurt; but the loving brother already was.
“As he walked away, he said, 'What a bad son.' The greedy brother heard him however and began to scheme more. The next week for the loving brother was sad: he lost everything he had. His brother would not let go of the fortune he believed was his, and knowing that his father had not made arrangements yet for the fortune, he silently crept into his father’s chamber and strangled him.
“In the morning the younger brother was horrified to find the father he loved dead, and a brother in no grief. Perhaps worse of all was that before the loving brother could put his father to rest, he was thrown out of his house and removed from the money that was rightfully his. He never was able to have the ashes or even know if honor was paid. What made the loving son angry was that he would have gladly given the fortune up to his brother, for another day with his father (he did not know he had been murdered).
“The loving son became depressed and lived on the streets for years until one day, he saw his brother walking along the road. He had on fine clothes and valuable jewelry. Many people followed behind him shouting praises and nipping at the trim of his coat. He even grew a mustache. Well, the older brother saw and recognized him; laughing called him a beggar and a dog. When his followers had past, the older brother whispered that he had murdered his father, to him.
“The younger brother became so furious with wrath he nearly choked his brother, but he restrained himself, knowing that he would be imprisoned or put to death (because he looked so impoverished). The younger brother decided to go and explain what had happened to the courts. One morning he went to an officer and told him that his brother had murdered his father ten years ago, and stolen what he was heir to, but the officer laughed and called him a hectic. He told the loving brother to go lay in the streets.
“He no longer knew what to do. He tried to speak to anyone who could help him, but no one would listen. They would call him an animal, or scum, or worse ignore him: whatever they could say or do to let the brother know he was not a part of the world.
“Well, one day the younger brother gave up and decided to live in the woods. He wanted no part of that place, the city. He lived happier than one would think in the wilderness. For twenty years he stayed in the woods alone, so long that everyone had forgotten him (and he, most of that city). However, the love he felt for mankind was too strong and in the end it forced him back into humanity. People say that the brothers live somewhere around here, and that they can still be seen in the city; yet people think differently of each them.”
I was done with my soup before he had finished his story. I said, “Thank you for the soup, Sir.” I asked him where to put the bowl and said again, “Thank you, but I need to get home. My Father gets angry when I am late.” He told me to be careful and I left.
I went through the woods and back into the city, but by then it was well past sundown. I had nothing to give my father and I would be beaten. I accepted that fact and turned towards my home, when I saw the wealthy man from earlier in the day walk into a house.
I was young, in my age now I would never think to do something so foolish, but I followed him then. Looking through the window, I saw him kiss a woman and go up the stairs with her. I waited until he came back down the stairs and left the house. I kept following him out into the country.
He walked towards a mansion enclosed by a low wall and much land. I went far behind him, so that I could not be seen and when he went into the house I ran up to it. Through the window, I saw him motion to his wife, and three children sitting before the fire. They got up and left him. He sat in an old chair, and poured himself wine in a large bowl.
He took off his overcoat, hat, gloves and shoes. Then he took off his pants and shirt. Piece by piece he removed his jewelry, placing them on the table in front of him. He drew a money pouch from his coat and poured it on top of the jewels. He was in his undergarments, and I saw him reach his hand into his hair and pull off a wig (he threw it into the corner of the room). Next he dipped a rag into a washing bowl and started to rub his face (I could not see his face because his back was to me). When he was done cleaning his face the cloth was dirtied with chalk. He threw it in the fire. At last, he stuck his hand into his mouth and pulled out his false teeth. Then he went to counting his money.
I stood looking through the window for an hour; I watched him closely. He held a mirror in his left hand and stared into it. He turned the mirror and the light from the fire caught the glass, and reflected his face to me. He had boils on his cheeks, a big bulbous nose, an empty mouth with black gums, his skin was wrinkled and callous. He had spots on his bald head; his eyes were pale and lifeless.
He began to cry. There was a knock on his back door and I moved backward. He wiped the tears from his face and got up. He went to the door and let three, rough men with black coats into his house. They followed him into the room with a fire. One man sat in his chair while another took up the bottle of wine, and drank from it; but the third pointed to the wealthy man (with the ugly face) and made violent motions with his hands. The wealthy man stepped back, and bumped into the man sitting in his chair. He pushed the wealthy man onto the floor and all three started to laugh.
When he stood up, he pointed to the table with his money and jewelry on it, but the man standing shook his head (and pushed all of the jewelry and coins into a sack). The ugly man pointed to furniture and paintings but the rough man still shook his head. The magnificent man fell back to the floor and threw his hands into the air. He cried loud enough for me to hear this time, and the three men laughed.
All four of them must have heard a noise up the stairs because they looked in that direction. The man standing drew a knife. Then pointing to the wealthy man, he hit his hands three times and walked to the door. His two companions followed behind laughing and mocking. The wealthy man curled into a ball and lied on the floor. I left and did not know why I had followed him, or what to make of what I saw.
I knew I was in trouble, because it was midnight when I got back into town. I reached my door and had my hand on the lock, but decided not to go home that night. I walked back into town, sat on the road and thought about the two men. My mind drifted from the magnificent to the wanting man and back again. I compared their lives and thought which one was better.
At that moment my mind felt different. It was acting and working in a way it never had before. I found thoughts emerging behind my eyes, without seeing anything. Once I had to witness and observe to have thoughts, but then no longer. I thought of many things that night. My mind was alive. I did not even consider my father and mother and what would be done to me.
When the sun rose I went into the woods, towards the wanting man’s cave. It was a much harder journey this time and I got lost twice, but managed to find his hole. He was not there. I went inside to wait for him and fell asleep: one of those exhausted sleeps. I woke up at sundown and the wanting man was coming through the opening. I saw him clear and when he saw me, he said, “Who were you following this time?”
I said no one and he asked, “Then why are you here?” I said, “I need to ask you a question.” He looked into me and said, “Can it wait until after dinner?” He smiled and lit the fire, putting water, carrots, roots, and cabbage into the pot. As it boiled he hummed to himself and said, “Don’t your parents worry about you?” I said maybe, but there is not much there for me, “They don’t worry unless they need something from me.” The wanting man said, “Well, don’t they love you?” I said I did not know and started crying.
The wanting man came up to me, rubbed my shoulder and back saying, “You’re a young boy, what is bad now will become better in time. Now here, drink this soup.” He handed me the broth. I drank it slowly and he said, “What was it you wanted to ask me?”
I put the bowl down, paused for a moment, and began, “Last night I followed that other man I told you about, all the way to his house.” He was surprised and asked if I really did. “Yes,” I said, “and I saw him cry and take off who he was. He wasn’t the man I saw in the streets.” He said “No, I would think not.”
I told him, “Men came to his house and mocked him, and he slept on the floor.” The wanting man said, “I have heard wise men say we get what we reap, but I never believed that. We get what we were always meant to get. Sometimes skilled gardeners can plant beautiful flowers that do not bloom, but even the man who steals an apple may grow a tree from the core he throws away. I have heard wise men say too many things that aren’t true and know that I know nothing; certainly not enough to give advice or call myself wise. I think you want me to tell you something, but boy, I can tell you nothing.”
I cried more, because I was scared, confused and still just what he called me: a boy. He told me to finish drinking the soup or let him finish it, but he was not mean. When I drank it off, I tried to ask him again, “Why do people want to be that man, when they don’t know him?” He said nothing, and I asked, “Why, didn’t you kill your brother?” he said nothing. Then I asked, “Are you happy like this?” He looked at me like I was foolish.
I stared into his eyes, and they were living like coals or hot sapphires and he said, “You need to find these things out for yourself, boy. I did not kill my brother, because I did not want the house, or money, and I did not want to murder. But happiness, and why people act as they do, those are things people can only learn for themselves. If I told you I was happy would you take up my life, and be happy because I said I was? Or if I said that a man was the best man of all mankind, would you be that man and be the best of all simply because I said? It is time for you to go, and I do not want to see you around my home anymore. I can not do any good for you.”
I continued to cry and went to the opening of his cave. As I put my head through the opening he said, “One question, leads to another without an answer. The gods hold the answers, but the gods can not be seen. There are few men that ever find what they look for.” I went back through the woods and into town. It was near midnight, again. I sat on the edge of a street corner, crying and thought. I thought about the people I had seen, the lives I have seen, the things I had done, and each part of my life. I looked at how the things I did touched others. I saw the connections between things for the first time.
I decided to do the only unjust thing I have ever done, and it was the last time I made other people’s business my own. In my mind I could not conceive why people want things, or do not want things, or how they think one is good and another bad. I did not see the difference from one to another; and was confused by how one thing can look to be good without being good, and how something that looks so bad can be good (because I was still young and did not know why people lie and how they think in general).
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