When the Water Changed
(A Legend from Persia)
In the age when men still listened to the whispers of the unseen, the Fravashis came upon the world, their voices as soft as the wind that dances upon the dunes. They did not speak with force nor command, but with a knowing that carried the weight of truth.
"Mark this day," they murmured to those who would hear, "for soon, the waters of the earth shall vanish—every stream, every well, every sea. And when they return, they shall be different, changing all who drink from them. Their minds will twist, their hearts will turn, and they shall know not what was nor what shall be. Only those who preserve the old water shall remain untouched."
But men, in their folly, dismissed the warnings, laughing beneath the golden sun. Only one, a quiet man with thoughtful eyes, heeded the sacred words. He gathered the water and carried it deep into a cave, where the world’s noise could not reach him. There he waited, watching as the rivers dried, the wells turned to dust, and the foolish cried out in thirst.
Then, as foretold, the waters returned—but they were not as they were before. The man emerged from his refuge, clutching his own flask, untouched by the madness. He watched as the people laughed at the old wisdom, their words and deeds altered, their truths undone. What was right became wrong, and what was wrong became right.
He spoke, but they did not hear. He warned, but they did not care. They looked upon him with pity, whispering that he was lost, that he was strange, that he was mad. And so, he lived alone, drinking the water of memory, holding onto the past that none remembered.
But solitude is a heavy weight, pressing upon his soul like the silence of a forgotten world. Day by day, he walked among the shadows, hearing the laughter of men who no longer understood him, watching the faces that once were familiar turn into distant echoes. He spoke to the stars, to the wind, to the lingering memory of what had been—but none answered him, none reached for his hand.
His heart ached with the emptiness, with the unbearable distance between himself and the world. What good was wisdom if it left him alone? What purpose did truth serve if it cast him adrift, with no companion to share the burden?
And so, in time, the weight grew too great to bear. He gazed upon the new water, its surface shimmering with the promise of belonging, of forgetting, of release. His hands trembled as he lifted it to his lips.
With a weary heart, he drank.
And then, the past was gone. The cave forgotten. The wisdom faded. He laughed with the others, walked with them, lived as they lived.
And they rejoiced, whispering among themselves, "See how the madman has been restored to sanity?”, "It was a miracle!”, they said.
Comments