The old man climbed long and hard with all his strength
till he reached the top, encouraged by those below; unable to hold on to the
sheer edges. He shouted out all that he could see, but the crowd below could
not hear. He began to sing loud and clear, his voice carried on the wind. He
sang of clear air and fields of green, trees, fruit and berries of plenty, and cool
streams of quenching water. Those below took up stone from the ground, and
fashioning tools began to hew foot holes into the steep face; soon every one of
them, were free from the darkness.
Loud discontent
as they saw, all was not as the old man had sung; very little fruit, no berries
but good soil and water. The crowd were about to turn on the singer when a
young boy said; “if he had not sang that song; we would still be in darkness”.
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