The Gravedigger

By the light of the pale, not quite full moon, with stars shimmering in the night sky, the fog rolled in. The mist seeped into the mind of a hopeless, forgotten soul who paced along the shadowy path, shovel weighing heavily on his shoulder, and his cold heart. He yearned for another chance to answer the question and to find the truth, but his time was fading as the moonlight waned. Mindlessly toiling through the dark night, the gravedigger's eyes grew accustomed to the lack of light and his ears tuned in to the whispering voices around him:

"Awaken to see what you are."

"Awaken to see what you've become."

"Awaken to see what you could be."

The last voice, always the most powerful, gave new meaning to the night that lay before him. It spoke to his soul, exciting him. He turned around to peer behind the aged oak whose leaves rustled in the wind, knotted fingers beckoning him. He hoped the time had finally come. As he climbed out of the finished tomb, he felt the slightest sense of foreboding. It was dangerous to be the one. But he knew the key to his future was just beyond.

In a daze, he trudged slowly across the midnight graveyard. The lure of what could be revealed pulled his heart further ahead and he forgot any sense of malice. Through the arbor gate he crept, whispering words of encouragement to himself. There, just ahead! A glint in the fading light. Just a hint of something to be treasured.

A seed.

Could it be? There was no precedent for this. He knew the dangers; he had studied them well, but he coveted it at once. For therein lay all he knew; all he sought and all he could possibly hope to know.

He fell to the ground in revered respect for the power contained in the tiny husk—all the knowledge of the universe—in this one place. He could not bring himself to rise. The air weighted him down—the hopes of all mankind standing on his back. On hands and knees he labored to reach the future. Past brambles tearing through the flesh on his face and gravel that shredded his skin, he dragged himself onward.

"The future is ours," he mumbled, as if a creed, under his breath. He hoped he hadn't spoken it aloud! He prayed it was only inside his head! But the instant the words tumbled past his dry, cracked lips, the wind grabbed on and carried the words to the heart of the Earth.

And she opened her ears, as she opened her eyes, and with a trembling and a low rumble, the gravedigger knew he had been too greedy. The seed would not be for him or any man. It was not fated. Succumbing to the will of the Earth, he closed his eyes for the last time, arm outstretched to grasp that which would not be. And as the seed returned to its rightful place, for the first time, the Earth smiled.

originally posted on 11.25.07 on myspace