The sage, the river, and the angry young man
Once upon a time there was a wise old man who was sitting beside a gently flowing river. An angry young many came along and sat down beside him. For he had heard that the old man was accounted wise by the people of the town.
Now, this young man had read quite widely and thought many wide-ranging thoughts. And in his heart, although he was barely twenty, he cradled a bitterness that anyone be considered wiser or superior to himself by anyone.
“Old man”, he began, “the townspeople say that you are wise — and I believe them … So, tell me, do you not ever wonder and worry that God is dead, and that we have killed him? Do you not fret, night and day, that we are abandoned in this senseless world beneath the wheeling stars, morality and meaning being only passing illusions, and all human concerns having no real import?”
Momentarily taken aback, the old man pondered the angry young man’s questions for a while, watching the images of the two of them wavering in the passing waters. After a while, slowly, he replied to the angry young man.