Tranquil

A delicate rain played off the crystalline leaves of the white plants around him. The soft caress of the drops washed over him like a wave of relief. It would all be over. There would be no more pain, no more suffering. Finally, he had reached peace.

Gently shaking the glimmering droplets from his hair, he moved toward the stone-crafted bowl, shaped almost like a giant clamshell. The bowl held tranquil water, the surface strangely unbroken by the summer shower that delicately drizzled over the whole forest. In the distance, birds chirped blissfully, untroubled by hunter or famine. The gentle sway of leaves rippled through the clearing as a breeze laughed through the trees. Shimmering light- tinted green by the cover overhead- sparkled and shifted over the clearing, giving it a soothing shade. No crass voice broke the sweet perfect silence of the grove.

The man dipped his hands into the bowl- again, without upsetting the surface of the water- and cupped his hands. He drew out the cool liquid and let it drip down his face. He felt the stress and aches of years melting away as he became one with this divine peace. The commotion of his mind and the pains of his conscience grew quieter and quieter until he felt the tranquility take him, body and soul. He was ready.

Lightly stepping from moss-covered stone to spongy, dewy grass he felt the delicious chill of the early morning earth under his feet. He savored the feel of the grass between his toes and the give of the rich soil as he moved gracefully between the arching branches. The murmuring of his silken robe made a gentle whisper that meshed with the slight pattering of the rain. The long, ivory-colored garment barely brushed the top of the grass, and seemed to make the man float as he left the clearing and headed down a path made entire from nature’s passing.

The breeze grew slightly and the rain became a tad less lazy as the man ascended the base of the great hill. The tree line followed him to all but the very peak of the hill and he moved with quiet dignity and humble purpose. His head slowly swung back and forth, taking in the peace of the forest, the rhythm of the rain dropping, the noises of the animals, and the rustling symphony of the blowing leaves. All was as it should be.

The crest of the hill came in sight, a verdant green dome just outside of the border of the trees. The sky was mildly gray from the shower, but spaces of brilliant blue peered out and the glorious sun smiled through with warming rays of hope and life. The man paused just at the forest’s end to bask for a moment in the sun’s divine essence. He thrilled at the warmth that suffused him and the calm pitter-patter of the gentle rain. Then, he stopped beyond the forest’s edge.

Around the white robed man, there was destruction. Violence reigned. Corpses lay, strewn haphazardly and without respect to the former owners. Chunks of earth exploded upward as vast shocks rocked the land. In the distance, he could see the armies of Man marching against one another. The battles were confused and almost random. People killed one another indiscriminately. The howling wind and the screams and moans of the dying filled the smoke-choked air.

The man in white looked at all of this for many long hours. He softly sighed as if in resignation, sat down on the sun-baked and blood-watered ground, placed his head against a broken, irregular stone, and died.