am only appealing to the small like a the smallest of cheese before a mouse. Thou art so high in that stall, I am even shocked you could see my tiny shadow at all. As if Thunder would shush the splash of an ant crossing a puddle...I am...”
The merchant, his roar of laughter interrupting the beggar’s remarks ,sailed back " Enough, enough! Enough with your snake's tongue, beggar, it becomes a long hiss than irritates the ear. But we are all glad to hear your redress and note its return to rightful look. I for one discredit not a man unmeek in his lowly place providing his hands and feet stay away from the loftier steps of his sight. You are no merchant of god's chosen, beggar, though I see your ointment has attracted a small buzz of flies. Desist thy scratchings, for up here, with feet higher than your head, we are the True Sowers and Reapers. Given to scatter the seed amongst the flock. Uphold our Greatness, our Trueness and thou might stay and watch a greater feeding. Providing thy withhold thy tongue of false songs."
Young Beggar: "Done, sir, in all the humility of base to towering Truth. Except a question from this buffoon puzzled by his own lack of wit. Forgive the bluntness of this I can wrestle it out in no other way: Yesterday I heard of the Law of Contrasts here in the Square. If all such noble merchants as yourself be of great Truth and I be as False as a rat's grin, then does that not make my goods, my gods of absolute fidelity just as yours are complete in their falsehood?"
Absolute astonishment rippled through the crowd and stunned the Merchants. Though as said the law was unwritten, the Custom had never been broken. No one, before this daring rag, had ever spoken aloud of the Contrasts this near the Stalls of Worship. Though all the God merchants were horrific and, in truth, empty for a rebuttal, many of the crowd began to murmur consent and confide the question amongst themselves. Some in honest query, most to simply delight the merchants unstable stance and cornered shifts. They began to look to the merchant who had first spoke each thankful they had been spared this oration of puzzle. The crowd too looked to the merchant; all smirks at his tortured brow. And they waited awhile for his reply.
To himself he thought 'If I claim he is greatly false and gods a little truth and thereby much false, he will turn that easily upon us. That we are greatly true and our gods a little false and much true. This will lead to all sorts of agonies, I know. If I disclaim to answer a totally false question from a false man, he will answer that a man of Truth can answer any question truthfully whether that question is false or true. I will argue that as he is not a true merchant, the law of comparisons does not apply to him. Falsehoods and truths are unique in this way only to the Vendors of the gods.'
And so the Merchant spoke across the waiting crowd to the beggar "The answer to gain insolence, your unpiousness would be yes, if thou had any standing as a Merchant. You have not. You are false, an imposter who dreams of some higher glory than can be scraped from a rusted cup. But as you are as near a Merchant as dried dung is to a camel, you are false and your gods are false as no Contrasts apply. So take thy peddling elsewhere, that the crowd is not failed to what is Truth!"
The young beggar: Great mountain of the desert, son of great mountains of the desert, your tongue of hooves has drove much reason into this poorly wrapped skull. But also confusion still leaves a doubtless mirage of hope. I beg your wind blast its shimmering beguile forever. Answer this and I go. Was not the Law of Contrasts given as Unwritten as it is a thing of belief? If written, proof would be required. Logic in all things of the spirit is not welcomed we know. But if unwritten all can believe as they wish to believe. Do the people not each believe the falseness of a god and the trueness of a merchant; This is the Law unto the Merchants you say. But I deny this and say it is a Law onto the People. They use it. They may not build or proof falsehood but it is their way and their law to accept or reject it. Blindly so it may be argued but even a blind man is entitled to the Law, for who is not blind in the spirit: Does not the user own what he uses for its time in use? Where bought, borrowed or stolen? In this way the Law is of the people to use. If it was solely that of the Merchants then how would the people believe? Thou would have a poor supper carving the Law between yourselves. It has been said: When the Law is written it belongs to those who scribe to its purpose; when the Law is unwritten it belongs to those who believe to its purpose. You Merchants believe only in the wretchedness of the people, that is no contrast, it is truth! The people believe in your uprighteousness, that is no truth, it is contrast. What say you now, is the Law theirs or yours? And if theirs what right have you to deny their believe in anything of contrast in this Square? Whether they believe me false or true or my gods or your gods; who are you to demand disbelief? Who are you to demand the look of contrasts for yourself with falsehoods abundant at your perch while condemning upon such as I the sentence of like bears like?"
The end of this the crowd roared and thumped their feet in dust. Must could only follow a bit of the argument but sensed a victory for the beggar. Especially as the merchant's face began more twitched and forlorn as this last rebuttal continued.
The merchant knew the argument was lost. Best just ignore his cocky crows. Besides the crowd may like his strutting but unlikely to buy from his hoard of gleanings. And later the merchant would talk to some friends he knew. Influential friends who would think the removal of a beggar from the city a minor thing easily done. So ignoring the beggar’s last response, the merchant simply turned to the crowd and began harassing them as before. The other merchants caught the hint and began to do likewise.
The crowd ,at first puzzled, then began to stammer at the Merchant for a reply. Others realized the now total victory for the beggar and gave cheer but it was a ragged thing as few came to the note at the same time. As well the milling had begun as the God merchants came back to full voice and lashed before their neighbors stall. Except the beggar's few. These the Merchants left to idle.
And the Beggar's young son began his ply as well but in a much kinder tone. As he had said he was no trained Merchant so spoke of truth about his gods rather than the sins before him.
"People. I would not dare demean your character and lay the sigma of 'follower' upon your persons. Yet I know you have come to this stall because you are bold enough to look above the dust for some more purer drought. Each year the thirst to your throat has dragged you onward from cool shelter to this public well. Your cups reaching, hollow in their ring, where hands grip the stone. And though the depths are shallow, the drop is far.
And people, forlorn people, hear this. For you see it is not our Thirst, our need, our vessel at fault; nor is it the depth or width or sweetness of the well. There is no stretch of man, no matter how giant, how enormous amongst his brothers, who can gather about himself the full length of this reach. Kings to paupers all are the same in this, all are equal in their inadequacy to the need. It cannot be done. Who of you rich as you maybe can buy another inch to your arm? Who of you, of great power and will, can add arm upon arm and close the distance?
Oh I know, Brothers, the fault and folly of all of us, both buyer and seller, in the trickery and gadgets we have attached to our cups. All these falsehoods to be lost, to slip from our grasp and plunge to the depth.
Brother! One would think that the depths would have surely rose to spill over the walls what with this constant add of inventive trappings. But the well is deemed as broad as deep. Our yearnings are but a splash to its eternity of volume; a noise in the dark; no more.
Then what are we to do? Stumble with the ache of a thirst which seems tear a throat to a great gaping hole of dust; whereby our entire being stumbles into? Is this our lot? A cake of salt for our bread and the wine of dust for thirst?
People, people we have been misguided by our own guides. Who have been guided by our laments of need. It is a simple truth in a simple change in direction. We have stared at the distance so long, we are blind, out of focus, to what is see. Is there only one well where this can be seen? Cannot any well give forth the same? The gods, the immortality, the quench of terror can
this not be found in other wells closer to a man's hand?
What cruel jester or foaming fool weaved the riddle that worthiness equals remoteness? As if a man dare not love what he can touch or embrace.
If we reach for what is in this well but it remains oblique, why not reach where it is not. If what we see in this well can be seen in all wells, in all vessels, in all cups, then pray Brothers! What is the point of denial?
Enough! Enough!, I say of this blind grinding wheel of history! Let each man take into his hands the drink of destiny, the cup of received communion that he maybe blessed by what he sees, by what he feels, by what he is rather than cursed by what he is blind to, untouched to, and by what he never can be.
You seek gods? In this great well? They are there, seeking you! Where you look, they look. They areas blind as we are blind. They are as hollow as we are hollow. Where we look is nothing. It is what we look for that defines the god.
I do not sell gods. I sell wells, cups, vessels. My task is small; yours is enormous. And your task cannot be given to a slave, a servant to carry. It is solely each man's burden to be the altar of his own god to