Peace?

The sage wandered the streets aimlessly. No appointment awaited his presence, no chore seeking his attention. His saffron clothes light, the wind whipping through the entangled hair falling from the crown of his head , absently playing his single musical instrument. The world passed him by in a blur, but he cared not.

Great men came, as they always do, lured by his apparent peace and tranquility. 'What is your secret, O great one?' they asked, their heads bowed in reverence.

The sage smiled, his mysterious smile. 'You're too bound by chains you cannot see my child. There is a world yet for you to discover, oceans yet for you to conquer. Time yet has to pass you by before the secret can be revealed to you.'

What is his secret?

They all wondered.

Envious, baffled; they spied on him. Eager to learn his secrets, to bottle them and sell them to others like themselves. Others who suffered too.

Of having too much to do with no time.

Of having too much time with nothing to do.

The restless lethargy afflicted them all, crippling their thought process. Making it impossible for them to attain even a measure of peace.

And so one night they snuck into his tent. While he slept peacefully, that mysterious smile still on his face, they searched every available corner. For parchments, powders and that priceless pandora's box where peace was hidden away.

Elusive that peace is, hope and happiness intertwined within, they failed to find it.

Angry and dejected they slid a knife across his throat.

They say before he died, for one brief moment, his eyes opened, and a lonely tear trickled down.

Days later they found a letter, written in his writing.

'I forgive you. Go forth brother, seek your peace. You have given me mine.'