He was a man a chiseled stone, sandstone to be precise. Thousands of years old, he was said to be, an ancient relic of a long ago era.
It was said he was found buried in the sands of Egypt, a small fragment of his ear chipped away by time in its course. He was a beautiful stone figure, his artisan a true genius, a work only fitting in the presence of royalty, for which he had been.
He was found in the resting place of the great Cleopatra, a late pharaoh of the ancient city. And where he laid now, was a place to her dedication.
He was placed among other relics of her time, some as simple and common as a fruit bowl, and others as rare and stunning as jewelry once placed upon her neck. He however, was no less an important piece in the exhibit as a golden crown. A relic beloved by all who see him. Although, all the attention and love he got was still not enough to truly make him happy, for one intolerable nuisance was always on his mind; the bubbler only five steps away.
For years it taunted him. The cool, crisp water, the refreshing liquid soothing to parched lips, even when they are rock lips. And the lack of distance between it and him, insufferable! Stone cannot move itself like humans can, yet an oasis to cease the endless days of thirst lay right before him. Three decades he had spent beside the mocking fount, and he could not take it no longer. On a morning before the exhibit opened, it would be then he would make his first attempt at movement. And that very next morning, he did.
The sun had barely risen above the horizon when he knew morning had come. It was time. He summoned all his strength into one moment, focusing his energy, his power all for the use of a single motion. And it was then, in that minute of burning and aching of his stone platform, that he moved.
It was not more than half an inch, yet in his exhausted disposition, it was miraculous all the same. Part of great journey, always is to take the first step. That step was done, he just could not loose his determination and success would be his.
And it indeed never faltered.
It was everyday did this now, the crack of dawn he channeled his inner and outer strengths and pushed himself to his near limits. For days, weeks, months in his struggle, there was not a morning past where the thoughts of giving up did not breeze through his mind, but never did they blow him over.
He fought with everything he had in him, day after day slowly moving along, ever so very slightly growing closer. Before he knew it, he was nearly there another inch or two and the journey would be complete! "One more time," he told himself, "one last big jump and you'd be done." It was a big jump, a bigger jump than he had yet to make, but he refused to back down.
He closed his eyes, shutting out the world, focusing only on himself and his power. Surging, his strength was. He could feel it in him, that he could do this, he knew he could do it.
He spring for the jump, his rock vibrating with energy. Up and down, he went, somewhat bouncing forward in his landing. When the power was drained, he opened his eyes. He had done it.
Oh, joyous he was with celebratory cheer! His relieve flooding though him like a wave upon the shore, because now he had finally gain hold of one of the simplest pleasures in all of our world, and that is nothing more than; a sip of water.
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