Aab knows he cannot keep wandering endlessly. Even a river finds its end on the shores of the sea. But unlike the river, no human knows when the flow of his life will empty out his soul to the ocean of the universe. Aab can hear the roar of the ocean just beyond the horizon, but he does not know how long his journey to the shore will take.
Aab has always enjoyed surrender. He knows that the real victory of life lies in voluntary defeat. Those who resist in surrendering suffer agonizing moments of suspense and torture – but their end is the same as those who voluntarily surrender.
Aab also knows that the surrender of the river to the ocean is not its end. The ocean rises up in evaporation, gets heavy with moisture in the clouds, falls freely to the ground as raindrops – and trickles in little streams to once again become a swift, bubbling river.
So it is with human life, Aab believes. The body surrenders to turn into dust, but man’s words and deeds live on. Preachings of the Masters, anecdotes of the wise and witty, inventions of scientists, writings of poets and melodies of great musicians – they all survive long after the body, the hands that wrote, the lips that uttered, and the brains that explored, had been turned to dust.
Aab looks down at his body – and sees a lump of clay molded by the ethereal Potter in the shape of a human. A fragile mold which is ready to crumble any day. And he amazes at some heads that sit on such clay molds and claim supremacy, power, invincibility. Aab has seen even the mighty tsunami turn into a docile sheet of water after its deluge. He smiles as he thinks of the mighty and proud who will turn to worthless clay after their own deluge of power.
