A hiker, headed towards his usual, scenic route, came to a tall cliff. The peak rose high above his head and covered the noon day sun. With watchful eyes, he studied every edge and cranny of the bluff. “I can’t climb this.” He said resolutely, then journeyed home.
An elderly man, weary from days of travel, backpacked along its base. He had gotten lost and wandered far from his trail. His head down, he never saw the cliff’s peak. He enjoyed the cliff’s shade for a time and continued looking for his path.
Later, An ambitious lad walked right up to the bluff and started his journey upward, imagining how strong he’ll be once he rose to the top. After an hour, his arms grew tired. When his friends invited him to join in their games, he went off, playing tag.
Towards sunset, a couple was finishing their picnic when they came across the tall cliff. The man cursed its peak. He was a former rock climber, who had once hurt himself falling from an equally tall cliff. Now, he was convinced it was impossible to climb one without some sort of special magic. Furthermore, he resented all cliffs, and especially anyone who tried climbing them. His girlfriend, a photographer, basked in how glorious the cliff looked in the sunset. Her heart directed at how much her photos would bring her in profit and fame. The two went their way, consumed with their thoughts.
Near nightfall, a boy came across the tall cliff. He was overwhelmed by its majesty. He slept near the cliff and all night he dreamt of its grandeur. In the morning, the boy did a few stretches and began his ascent upwards. Hours passed, his arms grew sore, his stomach empty, but his excitement for climbing had consumed him.
Meanwhile, the lost elderly man had spotted the boy’s shadow being cast upon the ground. It caused the man to look up and see the boy. How high he had climbed! The man, weak from travel, reasoned that if he could get to the top of the cliff, perhaps he might find his path once again. And so, the lost man joined the boy in climbing the tall cliff.
Two two reached the top in their own time. Their backs hurt, hands cut, and body ached. Beneath them, the hiker stayed in his cottage, the photographer was selling her prints, the young man was kicking rocks, and the critic was making jest. However, none of these caught the eye of the old man nor the boy. They’d been too busy sharing stories of their journey upward, enjoying the view, and wishing their families were with them. The old man fell asleep at the cliff’s top, and the boy gathered flowers to share with them who were still at the bottom.
