by Michael Plante

The old wise man sits atop the mountain. Peering down into the valley he draws the conclusion that life alone is a much better choice.
The chaos and smoke chokes the body and the mind.
“better to be a wise hermit than a follower setting his own house on fire”
From the top of the mountain he sees the sun setting.
“Far beyond the horizon is the cusp of humanity;
if we’re born of darkness our baptism is pain.
Pain is our world”
“Only when we’ve had enough pain in our lives will we decide to change it”, he thinks.

The old wise man was once young and foolish.
He wanted to see the world burn just because it existed.
The horrified look on his brother and sister’s face led him to believe he was on the right track.
A sacrifice in order to bring about a nirvana.
“I wasn’t looking for accolades”, he thinks,
“I wanted a better world”.
“There had to be a better world than the one we were living in”

The fires burning in the valley below intensifies as the darkness continued to consume the light of day.
Smoke and the stench of human existence rose from the town below burning the nostrils of the old wise man.
“I think I didn’t move far enough away from the chaos”
“The sickness I smell is starting to churn my stomach”.
Turning his back the old man followed the last light.
“Before I go blind I would enjoy one day of subtle beauty”.
The old wise man stepped down into the next valley peering at the luscious green.
“I shall be home before the next sunrise”, he thought.

From the valley below where the smoke rises an old man leaves his home. The little shop that housed him has drawn its final breath.
“Nobody buys from the merchant anymore”, he says.
“Us little guys are now becoming a distant memory”.
He hears the chaos as it flows through the streets.

“People are drinking it up like wine”, he thinks.
“They’re drunk on it”.
He redundantly locks the door to his old dwellings and walks away tossing the key down the drain.
Peering up at the mountain he decides that’s where he wants to live.
It’s got to be better than here”, he thinks.

The old man strides up the side of the mountain away from the noise and chaos.
As he does a sense of relief over-comes him.
“I leave without apprehensions”, he thought.
The old mans reaches the top of the mountain and sits where the other old man sat. Peering down into the valley below he draws a deep breath and exhales.

“This is by far a better view”, he says.
Watching the town below as the sun sets he comes to terms with this new living arrangement. “I really never thought myself a wise man until now”, he pondered.
“What will I say if someone comes seeking advise?”
“I guess it all depends on the question?”, he answered himself.