Short story

Merging

The warm spring sun penetrated Prhan's body and he enjoyed the sensation of warmth. He stretched his right hind leg and wallowed in the luxury of the sunbath. Stretching his wings he scrutinized their golden transparency and inhaled the fresh fragrance of the new grass and humid earth. Prhan felt a tiny itching under the scales of his thorax; with a light caressing movement he brushed the scales above and under with his antennae. The itching ceased. He licked his antennae absorbing the delicious bitter-sweet taste of the sticky fluid he had just retained by brushing under his scales. Then he took to work on his wings, brushed them above and under with his hind legs and antennae licking them after each movement. Satisfied, he laid in the sun enjoying the caress of the tiny breeze.

How happy I am, he thought. How beautiful it is to be young and full of energy in this wonderful world of pleasures. Soon I'll reach the ripe age of mating and then I'll be introduced into the world of mysteries. Knorch the wise had already hinted that soon my studies will be over and I'll be on my own. I'll have to discover the world without a guide, and when I have done so, I'll come of age to teach the young, and I'll be Prhan the wise. It's all so exciting, every transition brings about a new awareness, new experiences and new pleasures.

The sun disappeared behind some clouds and the light breeze felt chillier. Prhan stretched lazily and stood up. The golden shine disappeared from his body and it now had a simple brown color. He walked aimlessly, trying to find a higher vantage point, should the sun appear again, to enjoy its life-giving energy.

Interesting, he thought, just a few moments ago I had a golden hue and now I'm just brown. Did the sun make me shine gold? Or is gold inherent in me? Or is it both? Do I have gold in me yet I need an outer influence to ignite it so that it can come forth? I'll have to ask Knorch the wise. Maybe he won't tell me. He'll say as he once told me when I asked him something similar: "You have to find out of that alone, my son. I can only teach you about things that we all have agreed upon. Mind you, son, I can only teach you ABOUT things, not the thing in itself. If you want to learn the truth, that you'll have to learn by yourself."

"How can I learn that, if you reject the idea of teaching me?"

"You will have to want to know it. The well of knowledge is in you, my son, and you can only drink from your own well, never from another's."

Prhan felt not a bit wiser after the dialog and now recalling it he still felt an anxiety: will I ever find my own well of knowledge? Where shall I look for it? He didn't like the analogy either; he often drank water from different wells and quenched his thirst. Knorch the wise used to hide his own ignorance behind big words when students queried too deep into a subject - thus he wouldn't lose face, thought Prhan. "You are wise not when you know the answers to everything, but when you make others look deeper," Knorch said once. You are wise when you can create that image of yourself in others' minds, Prhan smiled savoring his own awakening wisdom.

He found a granite stone and decided to climb up on it - too lazy to fly - and wait there for the sun to come out again and make him golden. From the top of the stone he looked out and saw the steep slope of the mountain side and down there the border, the sacred border he was indoctrinated never to trespass. Beyond the border were grass fields, the green valley and beyond that mountains again. He felt on his back the sun again and looked upon his wings to see the brilliant echo of the sun's silent radiance.

He turned back to the panorama of the sunny fields thinking of the forbidden land. Why? Why are we confined here? Why on the one hand we are encouraged to find our own well of knowledge and on the other, inhibited from finding it elsewhere than here? Why is it a sin to pass the border? The other side looked just as inviting as his own. What was different there? Yet whenever he mentioned the possibility of crossing the line, everyone looked scared and disgusted. The only story he could get from Knorch the wise was that no one had ever returned from there and that it was sure death, dangerous. What the danger was, was not known, since nobody returned to tell the story.

One day, Prhan thought, I'll go there and I'll return to verify whether it is dangerous or not. And if it is, why. He felt the blood rushing in his veins, his wings stretching involuntarily, ready to take him off to the terra incognita. Not yet, he thought. I'm not ready yet. First I have to observe the other side from here. Before I go there, I'll know it. From here I can see most of the valley. I'll just sit and look and wait. When the time comes, I'll know.

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