A man once told his son one evening to travel across town
to the beach that was below the town's rock cliffs
once there, the boy was to dig holes across the narrow beach
in the sand at the end of the lake.
The boy did so grudgingly.
He slowly walked across town,
painfully descended down the rock cliffs,
bruising and scraping his legs as he went down.
he began to use his hands to scoop
the grains of hand
in order to make hole
As he did so the tide began to come in
At first the boy failed to notice,
but in a moment of weariness he looked back
and saw his work being washed away
In anguish he swore,
ran back to where he had begun,
and in the water that went up to his waist
he began attempting to make holes
in the sand that was now under water
As he did so he failed to notice
how quickly the water rose
and he soon found himself flailing for air
In anguish, a second time, he swore at his father,
(or at least he would have, had he not been struggling against the water's weight)
A moment before the ocean's depth overtook him
a hand grabbed the son.
“Why did you not continue forward?” the father asked
“Why did you not continue digging holes,
instead of looking back?'
I never asked for you to create holes to withstand the tide,
only that you continue building,
but in your faithlessness to my order,
you refused to continue a task that was possible,
and went to fix the impossible.”
The son said nothing,
for there was nothing to say.
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