The Sad Man and the Arsonist

I have a dream!

The night was bone cold and unrepentantly windy, not fit for human consumption - though humans were forced to consume it nonetheless. And since the Sad Man was sad to sit by his unshared fire, he was happy to welcome the Arsonist into his home, to spare them both the fate of darkness. The Sad Man said he would accord the arsonist all the due worthy of a soul-bearing being, as one who carried within him a piece of God. But the Arsonist, whose soul was on fire, would have none of it.

"There is no God! There is no soul! Obviously, you blind yourself to the truth!"

The Arsonist agonized that his foolish soul alone would face its fiery fate - that none else would play the fool like he. But the Sad Man failed to see how the Arsonist could benefit from false words and asked him why he denied his soul.

"I deny nothing but what you imagine! Am I to live by the words of you? Obviously, you seek me to emulate you!"

The Sad Man was confused, having not asked the Arsonist to live by any of his words. Does the Arsonist see every question as a mandate?

"The crime you accuse me of is your own! Why speak of a soul that does not exist other than to force that idea upon me? Obviously, you wish of a life that cannot be!"

The Arsonist once had "tried" ("There is no try, only do!") to live the life of the soul unscorched, to obtain a soul as soothing as cool waters. But since he failed himself, his agony now forbade admission of even its possibility. For that, he stood with the blood of Jesus on his hands. Yet the Sad Man observed that a world not of cool waters would burn itself out and have no future.

"You are naive and hopeless in your pursuits to think all will have souls of cool water! Answer me, where will these souls of cool waters come from? Obviously, you know nothing of life but fantasy!"

But by the purification of fire the world will be saved. Just as heat cleanses germs from the roasting meat to make it safe, so shall the souls of fire destroy themselves by their own misjudgement and disappear, leaving only the souls of cool waters.

"Are you to tell me there's no fire in your soul? Who are you to preach to me? Obviously, you are a hypocrite who recommends life though he has chosen death!"

I failed to see how the Arsonist's assertions made my statements any more or less true. His hopeless fantasy seemed to be a hope to alter reality by wishful thinking. What is there to say to a soul such as that? But my silence set the crucifier into action as he poured gasoline in the corner of my home and lit it.

"Now you shall learn reality! You shall learn the world is a cruel and evil place and will never be a world of souls with cool waters! No one will listen to you!"

But I asked him if this was not more of an indication of his own world than anyone else's.

"No," the Arsonist assured himself, "I do this because I truly believe in having a soul of cool waters." And my house went up in flames as he cackled in evil glee.

Sad men don't rebuild their homes because it was sad to begin with. I merely live among the burned out framework and pray for the souls of the arsonists, though no longer sad for the arsonists in their winter. Had I thought it through the first time, I would have realized the arsonist is where Nature has intended him to be and maybe I had been hoping to escape the same fate.