By Keerthana Sujith
Man and God sit side by side,
watching water move peacefully across a lake;
one, sleepy and the other, eternally awake.
They need not talk to know why the other was where the wet met the land,
it was a friendship based on mutual understanding to never truly understand.
Years pass, and the two have watched the leaves change,
the same cycles complete,
green, brown, gone, repeat.
but as the stars began to show one quiet night,
the Man finally asks in the comfort of dim moonlight,
“...What is the point of it all, if I am only to be gone one day?”
The God questions, “Whatever do you mean my friend…?”
“What am I to do with all the time I do not know I have?
I am just a leaf amongst the forest; a single strand,
we will all wilt away one day will we not?”
The God gave no reply, deep in thought.
That night was somehow no longer quiet.
“You live forever,” reasoned the Man,
“you will never understand my plight the way only a mortal can,
how any moment could be your last.”
He says, eyes unfocused and lips apart.
“Perhaps not,” answers the God finally,
“But that, seems the exact reason to breathe in every moment,
that your time is finite even though hearts broken.
You are not doomed to watch every leaf wilt as they grow older.
That burden is one only the immortal must shoulder.”
“You will be given the mercy of death,
and for that, I will forever be envious,
you will see that in truth death is generous,
because my life is no life, just existence.
I have seen all, I cannot hide behind your young ignorance.
Without a promise of an end, any boon is torture,
even time itself.” He says settling into the cold, soft land.
“Your time is Diamond, mine; Sand.”
“It does not feel like diamond.” The other says, matter-of-fact,
the God chuckled, “Only a wealthy man can say that.”
The Man smiles, satisfied with his answer.
The two sit by the lake, still smiling as the sun began to rise,
as the leaves began to fall and glide,
as the Man finally breathed his last,
the God rose, walking by all the fallen leaves scattered across the path,
To go sit by another lake, just as he had done in the past.
By Keerthana Sujith
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