The stars …
The old man was dying. Lying in his tent in the middle of the desert on the cold winter night, the only thought he had was the desire of being at one with the stars.
For the past two days that has been the main thought that had occupied his withdrawing mind.
He felt no pain, no sadness, no regrets. He was finishing living a life that was complete. He had accomplished what no son of an olive oil maker could achieve. Not that he cared. It has been many years since he did. Why should he? The earthly desires were all gone. He had tasted them all – gold, women, power, war. At the end, time ensured that the only thing he had was the memories of the past.
He was not bitter. And why should he be? He gave away the mantle of power so that the younger ones would take it up and make more of what he had started. The world belonged to the young and the hungry. He was not.
All he left for himself were the honor guard, a physician, two maids, and a manservant. Less than that the shah forbade. The shah. A boy who he raised as his son and who owed everything to the old man. Including his life.
All these were just stories now. As the old man lay there on the pile of rugs, he felt the world slipping away. No longer would he care about the wars, the strife of the neighbors, the jockeying of shah’s viziers, the machinations of his own children… How sweet the death seemed!
He did not care about dying. The time was coming fast and he was ready. The biggest gift of life, he felt, was the acceptance of the inevitable. He longed for Home. He knew that he will be there soon yet was giddy with the anxiety of the unknown. Like a child of six before jumping into an ice-cold lake, or a young man of fourteen before tasting his first girl, or a man of eighteen before taking his first life, he was nervous. What will wait for him? Who will wait for him?
The wood in the fireplace crackled as the night wore on. The servants slept, the guards waited. Slowly, slowly his body became not his. First the legs, then the arms, then the eyes. A very faint breeze with the fragrance of the desert passed through the tent calling him to follow, promising him peace and stillness that only the nothingness can offer. There was no more thinking, merely a pull and then a release.
Who was he? He did not care. Perhaps a shadow. Perhaps a soul. Perhaps a thought of the last breadth. He saw the settlement disappear below him together with the heartbeats of the living, the orange fires, the horses. Flowing up, into the lit sky. No clouds. Just stars.
Stars… He felt the union and full acceptance. He was on his way.