The Blind Visionary

The Blind Visionary

The panoramic view from the crest of the hill earned him the humbling view of the landscape below. He set his sight on the huge piece of land now amass with the wheat crop he'd promised his successors he would grow.

The air at this level was thin and sharp. His lungs had been subjected to this atmosphere numerous times and they ceased to complain. They endured their master's intrepid climbs to this precarious height. His limbs now only a shadow of their once limber and dexterous abilities, feared their master was not heeding to their hails of surrender. They could sense the throes of their cells in every move the master commanded them to make.

He was cognizant of his body's state . The resilient nature of the unison efforts of each part had long since been disengaged. They now performed individually. But he wasn't worried. They had been faithful servants of his volition. He just asked them to stay faithful for one last task. A task that would galvanize all his past deeds.

His mind was painted with images from the past. He knew every weather worn line that had been inflicted on this hill. His feet had developed receptors that stored the nature and size of every rock that was scattered along the path to the crest.

On his descent he craved for one last view of the setting sun that shot golden rays of warm light on the path, for he knew this was going to be his last descent and his last occupation of the hill. He inhabited a memory from long past that had been embedded in his memory. A memory of swimming through golden light across the path trying to catch the last ray of the sun before it traveled to its next destination.

The thought faded just as he felt the warm light leave his skin. Tomorrow the light will shine on new skin. He walked through the thicket of the wheat he planted and tasted the fruit of his deeds. Sweeter than the nectar of the only flower that grew on the hill.

The well was now dry. The wheat had consumed it all.

Night was approaching. They would be here at day break. He did not know who they were. But he knew they were coming. The eastern sky was dark against an approaching white light. The light was growing larger now. They were coming. It was time to perform his final task before his exit from this place.

The pit was now a wormhole to the other side of the world. He dropped himself down into this hole, knowing this was his last deed for his successors. As he worked his ax against the earth ,he could feel the moist mud falling at his feet. This filled him with an overpowering sense of victory. His ax now moved with super human strength. And then in an instant the earth within broke away and a primordial water level waiting to be released thundered out through the earth inundating him. His years of toil for the elusive liquid now carried him to the afterlife.

They arrived piercing through the atmosphere and stationed their vessel on the crest of the hill. They marked foot prints all along the path towards the field of wheat. There was food, there was water flowing from the hole in the earth, filling them with hope for a new future for their race. But they never found the life form that had left those foot prints.

Centuries later his body was discovered in a narrow gorge below the hill by the posterity of the new race. They studied and examined the life form that existed before they arrived. They learned that the corpse had lost his vision even while he lived. Although they may never know that the benefactor of their entire race was a blind visionary.