Today I met a strange man.
He wasn't all that odd-looking, to be honest, but he had such a strange way of conversing. Windsome, yet serious. He could be so to-the-point just a word before saying something as nebulous as the sky itself.
He did, however, have something to say. And what a thing to say!
The man told me of a city, a massive city, one that could hold as many people as would willingly come and stay within its walls.
"It's beautiful, no, it is Beauty incarnate. It is etherial, it is celestial, it is, if such a thing could be, governed perfectly by one.
I told the man that such a thing I find dubiously 'perfect'.
"So do many," he replied, "But none that doubt believe, and none that do not believe go, and none that go know, and all that know rejoice in it. In the city."
He continued in his praise of the city of wich he spoke and of its king to such an extent that the very stones I stood upon looked like mud and waste, and the beams of the houses near which I lingered seemed to be rotten trough and through.
"Why, pray tell, are you not there, sir?" I asked of him quickly.
"Why, to tell others of this greatness!" came the reply.
That I could appreciate. I noted to him that it must be a long ways from there to here and back, but he told me otherwise.
"It is not far. It is simply high."
I queried his meaning.
"Higher than these lowlands. Up! Above the plains, above the rolling hills. Up! On the Mountain!"
He pointed, and I stared.
Many times I have seen the Mountain. It is always a majestic sight, yet so impossible and seemingly perfect at its flat-cut summit.
"It," I began, slowly "It is there?"
"It is always there, my friend."
"I see. So that is your home?"
My newfound friend winced. Why?
That, as he declared at length, is not his home.
"I'm from town, actually." He explained, adding that he has a habbit of frequently taking vacations in that great City on the Mountain.
"But I can never seem to stay too long, or I end up becoming most ashamed and nervous. But please! Do not concern yourself with my struggles, for they are not yours! You doubtless have struggles of your own, and I will not ask of them, but they can be addressed at the gates of the City; within his courts, the king can create in you a new man worthy of being."
I pondered these things he had told me and, thanking him.
Stepping away from the puddle, I ceased to converse with my reflection.