The prophets’ mistake
(consequent to the meeting of the birds)
Overwhelmed by the heavy breeze that the meeting of the birds left in the universe, the prophets (at least of these lands) decided to purify the dense air so that they could, once again, provide for the world and for themselves, a fresh respite.
The prophets understood that the breeze that carried such grief, had, in its moment, been prompted by the forceful gust of their message. The guilt of their conspicuous mistake seemed, on this occasion, more compelling than the noble entrust that once spurred their heavenly news.
Expounded Abraham with matchless pessimism:
I am, until today, considered the father of Judaism, but worthy of being exalted my image is not, it has only disunited the human race between myths and isms. The prophecies pledged in my lineage, generations of spiritual heroism. Oh, the confusion is great! Was it my fault, that of the tales, or is it heaven’s mistake?
Moises continued with the bitter, yet prophetic interaction:
Commandments! Many more I could have shared. But, how much freedom have they meant in all these years of human despair? Rules are only necessary in civil affairs. Until now, the other Birds, that were in these lands long before the prophets were, showed me that the ignorance that makes you of god unaware, is more unifying than a code of conduct that renders you fear’s heir.
Zoroaster’s voice flared:
«Life is an epic battle of opposing forces», I wrongfully said. Since always, the other Birds revealed but one affable path, yet, I lured people’s minds into misleading courses. Unfruitfully I challenged the polytheistic faith, thinking: «My strife, the stairway to god reinforces » What a fool! When contemplating life, there are no battles, reasons, gods, or causes.
Siddhartha Gautama, in his mild distinctive tone:
Desire, I suggested to leave behind. My voice disclosed in sermons, that the cycle of life driven by karma was a burden that our existence needed to put aside. Today I see, in the flight of the other Birds, that creation, of nothing needs to be freed. But that I did not imbue, and now, now reincarnation, the self, suffering, and hope for liberation, are my legacy’s obsession and creed. I continue to be a formless manifestation of creation, and to be included in that wondrous expression, long hours of meditation that awaited self-realization, I did not need.
Lao-Tzu and his cryptic discourse, came forth:
Tao: such an abstract concept, what was it worth? Ambiguously I tried pointing out in words, to the majestic simplicities of this earth; not being that foolish enough, my message mankind made worse by ascribing it truth, priority, and spiritual oath. I can see, I should have contemplated Tao silently, alas! I spoke of it stubbornly. Of the heavy breeze that the meeting of the birds left, I am also guilty.
Resurrected among the prophets, Jesus the mystic:
Salvation of the soul is a hoax, no one had to die on the cross! I Invited humanity to see the inexhaustible light that it was; but I have been deified, structured, represented, and the love that I tried to share seems to be completely lost. I should have always remained an artisan; that way, on this heavy breeze, there would be less dust. What does an innocent smile, a green meadow, a harmless cub, or the flight of a bird need to be saved from? Only from the human mind!
Mani ventured out in words; words that once jeopardized him (in these lands):
I declared myself an apostle of Christ, hoping that by representing his virtue, wisdom in humanity I could entice. All the Birds can blame me! The fault is mine. How naive is to represent the message of a man, and not that of life. I wanted for beliefs and religions to unite: dismaying plight. Nothing needs to be united, it is all one harmonious movement of hues, artistry, and subtleties; separated only in our minds.
Muhammad ended the appeasing breeze of the prophets (of these lands):
My tradition remains perverse, wasting life whilst rebuking the infidels. I consolidated the Islamic faith, state, and morals; I rested on my laurels. I… there is no more to say, despicable spiritual human quarrels. I refuse to miss, once again, the other Birds’ chorus.
Came once more the other Birds, prophets of all the lands, sweetening with their flutter the despondency of the prophets, of these lands, and at the same time dismissing the gloomy air of the meeting of their sisters.