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Description
     Wiser Still

     The beach is close for I can taste the saltiness in the atmosphere and the bitterness of my hair as it flounces past my lips. Hills roll by me as if ripples on a sheet. The breeze, this soulful day, is brisk yet hazy from the past storm. The sky, clean and blue, but upon which is burdened with clouds of cotton, radiates upon me its mournful laments. My dress clings to me but sets free as the wind shifts its purpose. This, I think to myself, is tranquility.

     A man who claims scholarship then accosts me. A rigid and fancy-laced tunic lines his plump self with very little flattery. He holds but a single, large book with letters etched on the binding. Since I am down wind from him, his stiff odor comes as an unpleasant shock as this smell is often accustomed to prudent fools.

     “I am a scholar,” says he with enormous pride. His voice merely crackles in the hard wind.

     “You are indeed. Your scent informs me so.”

     “I have come to you, dear woman, to teach you of great knowledge, great wisdom! Will you not learn from me?”

     “What great wisdom have you of this humanity of which you stride upon, scholar?”

     “Only that which is most important, peasant.”

     I then test him:

     “You mean, only that of which is consisted in that book of yours?” A puzzled look appears on his face as I continue, “Be gone! You have no wisdom worth sharing.”

     He leaves and as I approach the next hill I see a large castle on the horizon. A second man appears but his tunic is jeweled and he wears a headdress of gold. His hair is aged and his beard long. His voice is much more impressive then that of the scholar and he speaks with veracity.

     “I am the ruler of this land,” says he with his portly hands seized behind his back, his chest high in the air, and his eyes towards the ocean.

     “I see that in your adornments.”

     “My adornments have no matter to me. Tell me, dear women, what think you of my land? Does not my wisdom reflect upon these hills?”

     I then test him:

     “In what way have you wisdom, ruler? Can you not see the people fall under your riches and not your land?”

     “My people, peasant, bow to my true wisdom for I provide them with beautiful hills such as these.”

     I then said, to his adorned and conceited countenance, “No. They worship, instead, the heavens for this plentiful land. It is only in times of required admiration that they come to you.”

     “You are wrong!”

     “Be gone! You have no wisdom in that crown of yours.”

     The king then leaves and behind him drags his smug nature.
At this moment, completely full of anger, I curse to the heavens, “Why have you left me in this vain world?” When I fall to my knees and look up I see a brilliant, dazzling light come forth from the clouds. I hear noises as if bells are chiming in a near distance. From this light emerges a third man. He has robes of white and a flowing cape. Unlike the ruler and the scholar, this man shows complete majesty and mystifies me with his presence. He approaches me and I feel his magnificence prickle the length of my skin.

     “I am the oracle,” says he with as deep a tone as the roaring thunder.

     “Undeniably so, for I can feel your brilliance.”
He then shouts, with immense proclamation, “Feel my brilliance, dear women? FEEL? I am not here for you to sense me with your nerves. You have called upon me and I am here to answer your question with my colossal wisdom.”

     I then test him:

     “Wisdom? Give me an answer then that is unified with this wisdom.”

     “You are here, peasant, because…  the oracle has summoned you so.”

     My once quizzical and delighted face changes to utter resentment. I try my best to contain my anger and I say to him, “Do you not realize your falsehood? You have no wisdom beyond that proud and vulgar speech of yours. Your character is deceiving. Be gone! For one more look upon your face may release the temper within my fist.”

     The light disappears and the swindling man is gone. My displeasure is rising high but I remember the ocean and its calming breeze. I go to it.

     I walk along the sand and allow the foam to rush around my tedious feet. I see a man far off onto the ocean shore. He seems to be in a trance and so I run to him and waylay his thoughts. Before I can speak, however, I examine his meager yet humble appearance. He wears but pale trousers and a dirtied shirt. His face is hard not with anger but with wonder. My hand, which I placed upon his shoulder, is well accustomed to the texture of his clothes. He has not the scent of an arrogant scholar, nor the elaborate ornaments of the ruler, nor the magnificence of the oracle yet I feel spellbound by his person. This man, in appearance, is no different from me. A peasant he must truly be, but in what sense, I wonder?

     “Hello,” says he. A greeting I had not received from the others. His voice is gentle and his grin is pleasing.

     “Hello. I noticed you -”

     “Why have we,” he interrupted, “the undeserved, been given an opportunity to exist in such a beautiful world?”

     “I know not the answer to your question but have often wondered it myself. I have just spoken to three other men who are convinced they know the answer but I detect they are misled.”

     “I wonder, my friend, if we beings are sent to purely live. But then why the difficulties?”

     “You ask and you wonder, my friend. Why have you not spoken of your wisdom?”

     “What wisdom have I to speak of?” asked he with great puzzlement.

     “My dear fellow, whether you know of it or not, you are the wisest man I have yet had the pleasure to associate with. You ask and you ponder rather then simply answering on pure desire. The fool often plays wisdom as trickery or fabrication but you have managed to use it to its bear existence. Thank you, fine gentleman, dear friend, you have released me of my bewilderment. Please, ask me more!”

Description
     Wiser Still

     The beach is close for I can taste the saltiness in the atmosphere and the bitterness of my hair as it flounces past my lips. Hills roll by me as if ripples on a sheet. The breeze, this soulful day, is brisk yet hazy from the past storm. The sky, clean and blue, but upon which is burdened with clouds of cotton, radiates upon me its mournful laments. My dress clings to me but sets free as the wind shifts its purpose. This, I think to myself, is tranquility.

     A man who claims scholarship then accosts me. A rigid and fancy-laced tunic lines his plump self with very little flattery. He holds but a single, large book with letters etched on the binding. Since I am down wind from him, his stiff odor comes as an unpleasant shock as this smell is often accustomed to prudent fools.

     “I am a scholar,” says he with enormous pride. His voice merely crackles in the hard wind.

     “You are indeed. Your scent informs me so.”

     “I have come to you, dear woman, to teach you of great knowledge, great wisdom! Will you not learn from me?”

     “What great wisdom have you of this humanity of which you stride upon, scholar?”

     “Only that which is most important, peasant.”

     I then test him:

     “You mean, only that of which is consisted in that book of yours?” A puzzled look appears on his face as I continue, “Be gone! You have no wisdom worth sharing.”

     He leaves and as I approach the next hill I see a large castle on the horizon. A second man appears but his tunic is jeweled and he wears a headdress of gold. His hair is aged and his beard long. His voice is much more impressive then that of the scholar and he speaks with veracity.

     “I am the ruler of this land,” says he with his portly hands seized behind his back, his chest high in the air, and his eyes towards the ocean.

     “I see that in your adornments.”

     “My adornments have no matter to me. Tell me, dear women, what think you of my land? Does not my wisdom reflect upon these hills?”

     I then test him:

     “In what way have you wisdom, ruler? Can you not see the people fall under your riches and not your land?”

     “My people, peasant, bow to my true wisdom for I provide them with beautiful hills such as these.”

     I then said, to his adorned and conceited countenance, “No. They worship, instead, the heavens for this plentiful land. It is only in times of required admiration that they come to you.”

     “You are wrong!”

     “Be gone! You have no wisdom in that crown of yours.”

     The king then leaves and behind him drags his smug nature.
At this moment, completely full of anger, I curse to the heavens, “Why have you left me in this vain world?” When I fall to my knees and look up I see a brilliant, dazzling light come forth from the clouds. I hear noises as if bells are chiming in a near distance. From this light emerges a third man. He has robes of white and a flowing cape. Unlike the ruler and the scholar, this man shows complete majesty and mystifies me with his presence. He approaches me and I feel his magnificence prickle the length of my skin.

     “I am the oracle,” says he with as deep a tone as the roaring thunder.

     “Undeniably so, for I can feel your brilliance.”
He then shouts, with immense proclamation, “Feel my brilliance, dear women? FEEL? I am not here for you to sense me with your nerves. You have called upon me and I am here to answer your question with my colossal wisdom.”

     I then test him:

     “Wisdom? Give me an answer then that is unified with this wisdom.”

     “You are here, peasant, because…  the oracle has summoned you so.”

     My once quizzical and delighted face changes to utter resentment. I try my best to contain my anger and I say to him, “Do you not realize your falsehood? You have no wisdom beyond that proud and vulgar speech of yours. Your character is deceiving. Be gone! For one more look upon your face may release the temper within my fist.”

     The light disappears and the swindling man is gone. My displeasure is rising high but I remember the ocean and its calming breeze. I go to it.

     I walk along the sand and allow the foam to rush around my tedious feet. I see a man far off onto the ocean shore. He seems to be in a trance and so I run to him and waylay his thoughts. Before I can speak, however, I examine his meager yet humble appearance. He wears but pale trousers and a dirtied shirt. His face is hard not with anger but with wonder. My hand, which I placed upon his shoulder, is well accustomed to the texture of his clothes. He has not the scent of an arrogant scholar, nor the elaborate ornaments of the ruler, nor the magnificence of the oracle yet I feel spellbound by his person. This man, in appearance, is no different from me. A peasant he must truly be, but in what sense, I wonder?

     “Hello,” says he. A greeting I had not received from the others. His voice is gentle and his grin is pleasing.

     “Hello. I noticed you -”

     “Why have we,” he interrupted, “the undeserved, been given an opportunity to exist in such a beautiful world?”

     “I know not the answer to your question but have often wondered it myself. I have just spoken to three other men who are convinced they know the answer but I detect they are misled.”

     “I wonder, my friend, if we beings are sent to purely live. But then why the difficulties?”

     “You ask and you wonder, my friend. Why have you not spoken of your wisdom?”

     “What wisdom have I to speak of?” asked he with great puzzlement.

     “My dear fellow, whether you know of it or not, you are the wisest man I have yet had the pleasure to associate with. You ask and you ponder rather then simply answering on pure desire. The fool often plays wisdom as trickery or fabrication but you have managed to use it to its bear existence. Thank you, fine gentleman, dear friend, you have released me of my bewilderment. Please, ask me more!”