A Traveling Man
Once the was a Traveling Man.
He walked on a great blue road,
with a hat on his head and
a bag on his back.
One day the Traveling Man came across
a Man who had fallen on the road.
He stopped and helped the man up.
He fed him and told him stories of his journey.
The next day the Traveler had to leave.
The man hurried along, following the Traveler.
The Traveler stopped and asked the Man,
“Why do you follow me?”
“I have no where to go. I once had a home, but now it is gone,
Burned down by a great force,” the Man replied.
The Traveler then looked around
to see what he had missed.
While he had helped the man on the road,
he had ignored the destruction around it.
He stepped off the road and helped the Man build a new home.
The Man thanked him, but he still followed.
“Why do you still follow me?
The road will be tough along my path,” the Traveler said.
“You look like a hero,
it would be an honor to travel with you,” the Man replied.
So they traveled together for a while.
They soon met a great river that had flooded the road.
The Traveler decided they must build a bridge
to help other travelers on their ways.
He and the Man set to work.
Once completed they began to cross.
The Man felt the bridge begin to shake
and shoved the Traveler across the bridge as the bridge collapsed.
The Traveler looked in horror
as the Man’s body smashed into a rock.
The Man had died.
The Traveler moved on.
Many days later the Traveler came across a band of thieves.
They had a Woman captive.
The Traveler freed her.
“We must kill them!” She cried out.
“I do not kill,” responded the Traveler.
The Woman decided she wanted to follow him.
Shortly the came across a small village
that was burning to the ground.
They put out the fires and built new houses.
The Traveler decided that he no longer want to be a traveler,
but to be a father.
He and the Woman built a house and had a child.
But many years later the thieves visited the town,
and slayed everyone except him.
For he had spared them.
The Traveler cried and vowed never to settle down again.
The Traveler set out on the blue road again.
He loved the blue road.
It was kind to him.
It showed him wonderful pastures and took him to places he could help.
Many years passed and the Traveler had helped many people.
He had helped other travelers.
They called him a hero.
They called him a saint.
But he had grown old.
His back was bent under the bag.
His hat worn and hair grayed.
He leaned on a walking stick and inched down the road.
One day he fell.
He was tired and could not get back up.
But then he thought of the people he had helped.
“Soon one of them will come along and help,” he thought.
He was correct in one way.
They did come.
But when they looked at him they shook their heads.
They looked down on him and said,
“You are no hero.
You never were a hero.
Just a sad, old coward,
Who we dared call,
A saint,
a helper,
a traveler,
a doctor.
Just die.”
The old man cried.
He died in the cold.
Alone on his blue road.
