The Man on the Hill

Do you see that rock that perches upon the hill?

Would you like to hear the story of its being?

Ah, you do, for I can see in your eyes the glint of curiosity,

So now sit down and allow me to sate the thirst I have so created.

 

Long before we were born there lived a man in these parts

He liked little and loved less those who shared this place with him

Often would he for long times be unheard and unseen by the townsfolk

And often would they wonder as to where he went and what it was he did

 

The youngest would whisper of him in fear in the dark

Whereas the burgeoning youth would laugh and joke at his expense

The young men and women would sneer and dismiss his mention

And the old men would sit and think him but a little odd

 

One night then it was said that the man was seen on the hill

Sat down and looking outward towards the sea as if expectation

From his perch the old man never seemed to move from then on

And often would the people look up and wonder at his strange motivation

 

Then came the day that river that ran to the sea went dry

No longer could the small town drink deeply of its shores

Nor furnish their demanding crops with its cool and nourishing waters

And in despair did they cry out for some saving grace to fall down upon them

 

As the days grew drier still did the children go in search of water

Their hope being that some new well or river may have been left hidden in the wild

And it was one of these children who on a day like the ones before did find a small spring

It sat hidden at the edge of the hill with a stream from above filling it with clear cool waters

 

In joy did the little boy run home and tell of this to those he saw

And it was in their curiosity that the men of the village did climb the hill

And upon it summit did they find a rock that bled water without end filling the spring

In wonderment did they return to the village and spoke of it to the old and wise amongst them

 

It was then that the little woman who knew the most and spoke the least raised her hand

She asked who amongst them had seen the man who so long they had scorned upon the hill

It was a moment before she bowed her head and let slip a tear when they said he was gone

And told them then where the water which had saved them did come from

 

For the man of whom they had laughed did see fit to bear them great kindness

And so when learning that river had last run dry did listen at last to every words said of him

Sitting on his pedestal he let every joke and hurtful thing wash over him and through him

And in so doing he began to cry and in his crying did he fill the spring with his tears

 

For that my son is the sign of greatness in a man

He does more than ignore his displeasures and his dejections

These are but the tools he may use to do what a good man must when the time comes

Bear not ill will to those who harm you but take the weight and hue from it a better greatness