My apologies for the continued time between posts. Personal health, a surgery last Tuesday, and pain meds since them have kept me from posting.

Our Pilgrims approach the end of their journey for Wisdom and Power. As they distance themselves from their trials below, let us remember what began the journey. A claim that all power rests with men, with women only having power if men allot it to them. Finding such a claim false, I set off to demonstrate it.

Part Five can be read here, part four here, part three here, part two here, and part one here

The morning sun rose to find the Angel kneeling in prayer. Beneath his wings and face of folded concentration slept his charge. The Man’s face was one of wearied peace found only in sleep. The new dawn cast shadows on the worn corners of his features. Old cares from the Man’s banishment to the island had been added to with the new trials he had faced on this journey.

With a mournful smile, the Angel thought of how close the two Pilgrims were to the end of their journey. Maybe then the Man would find peace for his soul.

Some rocks shifted and tumbled from the other side of the campsite.

Rising gracefully to his feet, the Angel went to greet the visitor while the Man startled awake behind him. Rather than one of the priests, as he would have expected, he was greeted with the burly beard, of the leader that greeted them when they entered this village. His smile was shining through what his beard was able to hide, and he came with breakfast in one hand, walking staff in the other.

“Come Pilgrims! The day’s awake, the sky afire with the life of a new day, and no one eats who sits dazed in bed.”

With this, he tore off the heal of the bread love and threw it at the groggy Pilgrim. Too busy scowling at the sun daring to rise, he never saw the projectile coming. Jerking and swatting at his cheek as if a giant bug had assaulted him, the laughter of the other two clued him in to what was amiss. Snorting at the amusement of the other two, he called out to them

“Come. If I’m going to have to endure assault for breakfast, at least make the portion worth the trial!”

Shaking his head as the laughter trailed off, the leader broke the bread in two and handed half to each Pilgrim, with a wineskin each to accompany the meal. While waiting for them to eat, he sat before them. With the walking staff across his legs, his hands traveled over the worn wood and carved letters beneath his fingers. When the two Pilgrims were finished eating, he held the staff out to the Man before him.

“Here. The men of the lakes discussed it among ourselves yesterday while you were purging yourself in our waters of the evils you had endured. We would like you to take this walking staff with you. Our hope is that you might always keep sure footed in all situations and be able to defend yourself in need. The wood is taken from branches trimmed from the trees we hang the unrepentant from to dance their last mad dance.”

At this he paused, and looked off into the distance while considering his next words.

“While most men here would be wary to admit it, we know we gain our strength in our persecution and defense of the true way of life we have here. The enemy forces us to take a stand, and in doing so we learn what we stand for and why it is treasured so. When looking into the eyes of madness, love and truth become anchors. Thus we always arm ourselves from the trees we use to our ends, under which the repentant pass and unrepentant hang. Bows, arrows, and staves all come from these groves. Upon all staves are carved the words: “Dig deep with a foundation upon the Rock. Stand stalwart against the flood.” All life tries to do this, and trees are the best at it. Grappling roots in the land, nourished by water, most life will wash away before a tree is uprooted.”

“We do what we can to carry that strength with us as men, and to fight with it in our hearts.”

Smiling, the leader nodded to the Man before him, “Thus, seeing as you’re a rare man whose Pilgrimage does not stop here, the men of the lakes desire to help you with that same strength. May our charity aid you well.”

Nodding reverently, the Man accepted the gift, “Thank you. May we each grow in strength as iron sharpening iron.”

Standing, the two men grasped each other’s forearms. Exchanging farewells, the two Pilgrims turned to journey onward.

As the mountain loomed ahead, the Pilgrims found the way forward to be wide and easy. Growing at ease, the Man allowed himself to think on all his Angel had brought him through. Stagnation and hard toil. Destruction with lives swept away in a torrent and lives built on holding the water in check. Lives thrown off the edge in sacrifice and lives given to defending the beautiful.

He saw how in each of these the land and the water worked together in each land to bring about the fruits of their labors. Yet always the land determined where the water would flow, how quickly it would flow, and the depth of the current. The land had the control, and water was only able to act as the land would let it, so the land still must have all the power.

Yet, he struggled. What about the flood that swept away the city and families within it? What about the river so powerful, strong, and loud that it cut deep into the heart of the land, echoing it’s distorted rage throughout the whole canyon? Even if the land controls all those things, at times it seems the land could be overwhelmed in a rush or cut deeply over time.

If the water proved to be strong enough….

His thoughts were interrupted as they came to the base of the mountain. Below was a wide, lazy lake. Far above was a slow waterfall, water collecting into one thin stream during its fall. Rather than hitting rocks or creating an unholy amount of noise, the water plunged into the depths of the lake. Above him the mist coming off during the descent created rainbows along the ascent. The affect was to change what would look overwhelming and perilous to something to strive for. An adventure, a delight and source of pride.

His Angel turned to him, “Be careful. The way is clear and easy, but not without traps. Test each step with your staff, that the step is of solid rock. A fall will be fatal, but is up to you. If you place each step carefully, you will reach the top. From there, we will see all that we have passed through and be at the end of this Pilgrimage.

Nodding, the man stepped forward to test the first step.

Knocking loose a false stone, the Man confidently took the step leading to a small break in his climb. Feeling free of the world that had drug him through the mud below, he saw that there was a view of what he had left behind. Framed by the sides of the cliff being cleared away from the landing, the window gave a view of the lakes and falls, with the canyons of wrath behind them.

While he still felt a distant echo of wrath and anger from those lands within him, they were just that. Distant. He had moved upwards, and here they could not touch him.

Giving thanks for his blessings, the two Pilgrims continued on.

Hours later, the two Pilgrims came to another landing. Each pulled out their wineskin, and took a long, slow pull from the skin as they sat on the edge, looking out over the lands below.

From here the lands of the monks and of the floods were visible. Squinting, the Man marveled at how far they had come, and how high they had climbed, that such was possible. From here he saw that, what had seemed winding and twisting during his travels, was quiet straight when looked at from on high. And it was certainly the easiest passage, with all other ways through the wilderness twisting back in on themselves or coming to dead ends.

Crossing himself, and feeling his spirit free of burden, yet yearning to make the journey’s end, he offered a prayer for the lands below. Friend and foe alike. At peace, he called behind him to his Angel, “Come friend, let us make the top before the day comes to a close and night is upon us.”

As he came to the last steps, the man saw his destination come before him in it’s beautiful glory. Green and blue, a small pond was at eye level before him, mere steps away. Smiling, he looked back to see where his Angel was as he ascended the last steps, unchecked.

And his footing failed him.

Gasping in fear, the man strove his staff into the ground to try and regain his balance. Slowing him little, it mostly changed his momentum. He pinwheeled towards the Angel. Cloak flaring behind him, metal necklace chiming out, he found his voice and could only think to call for help. A feeble, “Help!” escaped his lips. With it his thoughts cursed his cowardice that would put his friend in danger and pull them both down, rather than die alone.

Seeing his charge fall towards him, the Angel hunched to catch the Man upon his shoulder. With his upper body over the Angel’s back and lower gripped tightly, the Man found himself held. Straining, the Angel’s wings surged up and pushed them upwards. The fall slowed to a stop, but the Angel beneath him trembled at the effort. The main struggled, and re-oriented himself to balance better upon his Angel. Meanwhile, he used staff to push against the rocks behind the two of them to get them to safety. After what seemed like an eternity, the Angel had put the steps behind them, and was leaning over to set the Man down besides the beautiful pool that had distracted him.

Thus, as the dawn began, Man and Angel sat to gasp for breath at the heights and end of their journey, muttering a prayer of thanks to God, before they saw what lay before them.

To the left stretched forth all the river and lands they had traveled. From here to sea, it stood before them. To the right of the humble pool before them was a wall of rock. From a single hole in the rock was a large hole about chest height. The water the land brought forth was strong, steady, clean, and clear.

From this, the whole river below came forth.

Besides him, the Angel spoke, “All that we have traveled, and all that we have seen, have not been possible with both water and land together. One cannot separate them both from what they create, no matter how their strengths and weaknesses interplayed. Each has Power; one to form and one to nurture. And each’s power is a result of what was first naturally there, as well as how it was cultivated, handled, and treated. All power is a gift from God.

“Take heed, my charge, and work out your salvation in fear and trembling as you ponder these words of the Lords, “Listen to me, you who pursue deliverance, you who seek the Lord; look to the rock from which you were hewn, and to the quarry from which you were dug. Look to Abraham your father and to Sarah who bore you; for when he was but one I called him, and I blessed him and made him many. For the Lord will comfort Zion: he will comfort all her waste places, and will make her wilderness like Eden, her desert like the garden of the Lord; joy and gladness will be found in her, thanksgiving and the voice of song.” [Isaiah 51:1-3]

“There is power in God, and upon this earth he puts it where he Wills. Search for all of it that springs forth from the tree at the top of the mount, for such wisdom and power as comes from the Tree of Life is the only power which will grant you eternal victory over the foes which beset you.”

“For now, should you chose it, you would be able to found and be a part of any type of community we have passed through. With the wisdom and power of God, you can help all men towards their eternal rewards in Heaven or in Hell. You may not be a leader, but would always be a pillar of the community, standing strong against the floods. Chose careful where your next journey will take you from here.”

With these words, the Angel let silence rest upon them. Time stretched out and made itself comfortable, waiting upon the Man’s choice. The man found comfort, clarity, and rest before the pool of God.

Standing, he made his decision to venture forth, and held his hand out to the Angel to join him.

This is the second part of a writing in response to the declaration that only men have power, because direct power can over ride indirect power. As I stated last time, I find this to deny the reality of existence, and thus distort any interpretation of the Scriptures. Beyond denying the power of women as nurturers, I believe the denial continues the modern trend of devaluing femininity. Thus, you see the response below.

We continue to follow the journey of two Pilgrims, in search of Wisdom by examining the nature of the relationship between land and river. Part one can be read here.

With the rising of the sun the next morning, the Angel shook the Man awake with the sun rise. Shrugging the wolfskin cloak over his shoulders, the two pilgrims set out up river.

Before long, the man began noticing occasional detritus along the river banks. Torn branches, exposed earth, and a lack of small plant growth further up the river banks than would naturally occur. Before long the damage increased, with whole trees uprooted and thrust side ways, roads and paths destroyed, and a single bridge that had collapsed. To the natural damages, the Man also began to notice remains of homes destroyed. Building materials rotting away in the water. Tables and chairs that had been carried down stream; or sometimes simply a chair leg.

What really struck the Man though was the innocence destroyed that he was able to observe. Children’s toys; a teddy bear, a blanket, a cradle over turned. Pictures of grandparents and of newborns. Rarely did he notice anything materially useful beyond stoking a fire.

When he saw the first man, glassy eyed, wandering among the wreckage and picking up anything burnable or remotely useful, he understood why. The scavengers and looters had already gone among the wreckage for anything of immediately value. All that was left was to continue the fires of their camps with what was available and forage what meager existence they could from the few remaining food sources along the river. Such must have proven to be a difficult task, for the Man saw no game in the area having fled hunting in a place lacking of food for the game itself.

Few men had any sparkle of hope or wisdom in their eyes. In such a place there was no haven for rest, no hearth, no home. The best of them had found companionship in hunting animals; yet such was a rare man able to live on his own. Weapons seemed to be rare too; the most advanced being spears and knives crudely wrought from the wreckage. Those able to find weapons and animal companionship still appeared void of hope, yet had a harder look to their eyes. A dispassionate look. Their demeanor cast a shadow across their existence that such men would not trust a single soul if it offered a free meal, and that certainly none were welcome to break bread with these men.

None approached either pilgrim. Man and Angel walked unsought and unmolested through the flooded wastes until they reached the ruins of a city the river had hit.

Immediately upon entering the city the two pilgrims were greeted by women aged and worn by their choices to face the world alone. Such women offered themselves in body to forget the world their choices had crafted for them. They’d made their beds, and had no shame in lying in them. To clear the way, the Angel spread his wings to their utmost. Such strength they had, that the closest were knocked back and the furthest felt the wind move to the depths of their souls. With the passing wind of his wings, such women shook at the feel of righteous contempt for evil passing through them. Realizing neither Man nor Angel could be taken by their pleas, and having nothing else to offer the world, they withdrew, shouting and denouncing the pilgrims until the women could not hear their own words. Pleased and deaf again, the women sought shelter for the evening.

A block further on, these women were replaced by those that came bearing gifts of food, drink, and warmth of company. Ranging from mid twenties to middle aged, they gave the companions words of encouragement on their journey and hinted at hopes they could join the pilgrims, offering to help strengthen them with food and rest if they would come aside and lay their heads down for just a short while. Yet, when the Man reached out for their offered platters of food and drink, his Guide softly laid his hand on the Man’s shoulder and pointed onwards.

“We shall not be diverted from our task.”

When such women heard such ominous words of commitment, their platters trembled. What drew these pilgrims onwards that they could tarry not? Upon hearing of a journey for Wisdom and Power in the name of God, yet with hardships and evil before them; most of the women melted away to enjoy the gifts on their own. The few remaining clung desperately, trying to call out to their children to come from the shadows and join them, and that the Pilgrims should take pity on the fruits of the women’s loins. The women were demanding to be taken along and offering anything. Such was their desperation that they showed themselves to be more caught up by, and yet enjoy their choices less, than the first group of women.

The Angel put his hand out, light shining out from between his fingers to light the faces of women hidden in the shadows of these ruins. Hiding from such lights and ashamed of their appearance, the women stopped such unbecoming displays. With their attention held as such, the Guide motioned the women towards the river. In their hearts, the women knew that such was a denial, for first they must cleanse themselves of the destruction of the city before undertaking a journey of God. By the time they had done so the Pilgrims would have passed beyond the women’s ability to follow in their protection. Sighing, most gave into despair and never ventured towards the water. A small few may or may not have made their way there out of sight of the other women’s judgment.

As the sun set, the two Pilgrims came upon a single woman who carried herself with elegance, class, and haughty demeanor. Gesturing them forwards with authority, she offered them nothing, but spoke when they came close enough to be heard.

“Come Pilgrims. The powerful and brutal Patriarchs of this city desire thy journey to hasten. They see the power of thee, and that they cannot stop thee, but wish thee to hasten. Already you have awoken memories and wrought anger in your wake. All are happy as they are when you are not around. The clock and history may not be turned back, so such desires do them no good.”

“As such, come with me. I will lead thee through my master’s stronghold untouched towards they destination.”

Turning, the woman led the Pilgrims beyond the city. The ruins gave way to a new and well-traveled highway. Such use had it seen that there were already signs of wear upon the fresh asphalt; paint faded and unclear as the road led upwards towards a ruined damn and fortress alongside it. Groups of women seemed to be the only travelers between ruin and fortress.

As the Pilgrims were led through the gates, the Man was astonished by what he saw. Gone was the desolation and desperation below. The first men he saw since entering the city, these were different beasts. They moved with confidence and determination, ignoring the Pilgrims on their journey forwards. The Man immediately saw the reason for such – these men had all the guns, the power, and the strength to take what luxurious goods they desired from the ruins below. While they showed no fraternal bonds, there was room for those that were there, and reason to live and let live while under the power of the master of the fortress. Such women came to them as they desired, stayed to the desire of the men, and fed them the fruits gathered from below by the women and the men who would give to such women for a brief spell of warmth.

Yet, in the end, such women served the pleasures of the few men able to find room in the fortress. When such pleasures were fulfilled, the women were sent below to be replaced at will from the hordes of others to be found willing.

As the Pilgrims passed under the far gate, the Man heard a whistle above him. He began to turn, when he heard a gunshot and dived into the ditch by instinct. A booming laughter overtook the Pilgrims and, as the Man looked up from the dirt, he caught sight of the source. Lifting a glass of amber liquor towards his lips was the fortress baron clothed in the easy power of one who has all the material desires at beck and call. Resting on his arm was the haughty woman whom had led them to the fortress. The baron took his pistol, played at aiming it at the Pilgrims again, yet instead raised it to his forehead in a salute of farewell.  Giggling at the sight, the woman put herself on her toes to kiss her baron’s cheek before leading him back inside.

Calm and unperturbed by the display of arrogance, the Angel came to the Man’s side and helped him gain his feet. Dusting himself off, he joined the Angel on the road. The Pilgrims continued onward.  The man pondered to himself which of the baron and baroness had displayed less of a care for life in their pursuit of personal pleasure.

Upon settling down for the evening at the fire, the Man began to ponder what questions his Guide would ask, and what truths he would reveal, about the two lands they traveled through that day. Sensing his charge’s impatience, the Angel spoke up. “Lay thy head down for the evening. What you are considering two lands are but one, separated only by men but not by the Lord. Tomorrow we journey upwards towards wisdom once more.”

The next day the Pilgrims soon came upon a small, humble water wheel along the river. Leading the Man up to it, the Angel silently pointed towards the simple fashioned gears which harnessed the power of the river to create a water mill with which to grind wheat to flour. Leaving the charge to examine his obsession with power, the Angel quietly went to accept the gift of fresh flour gathered and ground by several surrounding families that tended to and used the mill.

Gathering his charge, the Angel led the Pilgrim forward. Soon they found a large beaver dam, built by a in a location where there would have been a small pond even before the damn was built. Four families lived along the lake, fishing, hunting, and living off the bounty created by the water and land surrounding. Kneeling down at the lake front, the Angel took two fish from a trap, leaving a sharp steel knife along the bank in return for the bounty of the family.

Towards the end of the day, the Pilgrims came to a massive, ancient, man-made damn overlooked by a monastery. Knowing the Angel would wish to show him something there, the Man was curious what kind of power would belong to Holy Men such that an Angel would take heed.

As they entered, the Angel gave the gifts of fish and flour to the monk that greeted them, bowed, and then wrapped arms and wings around his charge. Lifting him in his arms, the Angel took his charge in flight to the roof of the monastery. From the bell tower, the area around the lake proved to be multiple villas connected by common good, common commerce, water, roads, and way of life.

Set beside what made such possible was the Monastery in which the Man rested, withdrawn from the world as at his island from which he began. From his vantage he could see that the road to the Monastery was well traveled, old, but served to bring any requiring sanctuary, advice, and guidance to those faithful monks below. Lovingly set along the roadway were several benches and a well that any too weak to make it without rest could find sustenance.

Taking in all below him took some time, but eventually the man felt confident. Smelling the dinner of fresh fish and bread cooking below, he turned to his guide, “Might I ask a favor? I would profit from the rest and view if we ate and discussed the journey here, rather than below or further on. Nor, I admit, do I wish to disturb the peace of our hosts, knowing how I would view such imposition on the island.”

Smiling benevolently, the angel took to wing, leaving the man to his thoughts.

Turning and comparing the land before him to what he had seen on his journey, the man gathered his impressions and insights of the power men had channeled by taking advantage of natural areas where land and water met that could lead to the storing of power. To do so without significantly slowing the flow of the river to a stop, as he had seen in the swamp and the plains, seemed to be the point.

His Guide returned, bearing fresh cooked fish, bread, and a skin of what turned out to be brown ale brewed by the monks below. The Angel handed him only the fish and bread. Put out at being denied fresh bread, he laid aside such concerns to eat the fish before him. When he had finished the fish and there was only the ale and the discussion before them, the Angel began.

“Tell me, what did you see of the powers within the land and the river behind us?”

“I saw that the land can create ways in which to channel the water to specific ends. This day we first passed families that had put this modest river towards making their bread. The land aligned naturally for them to do so, actually. The solid foundation along the river allowed men to prosper merely by placing the water wheel along the rivers path, forcing the water to obey their will for flour before it could pass.”

“The second dam we passed today was much as the first, only more so. Instead of merely harnessing the movement of the water, the water was naturally stopped by the beaver dam. The men, by allowing this natural dam to continue, did not slow the over all flow of the river but merely stopped it along it’s journey towards the sea for a time brief enough to allow fishing and other means to sustain their families. This occurred more easily than the toil along the planes when the river itself was slowed for miles upon miles, needing such labor and fortitude as you led me to understand. The men could have attempted to do so if they wanted to have a man-made dam, but likely saw it as a waste of effort since the land could not have held enough water for their efforts to be beneficial.”

“This last dam we currently overlook, and the one we passed after the destroyed city, you clearly want me to compare. Each was built near a city. Each had a large dam holding back water in a land large enough to create a lake. Each was overlooked by a group of men. One was destroyed and swept away by a flood when the damn burst, and this one we overlook would die of drought should the same occur.”

“From what I can see, the only difference is in the type of men placed in charge of the dam. The first city erred in putting militant thugs in charge, and this second has placed holy men in a place of defense of the public good. Clearly enough, each had the power to bring life or death, prosperity or woe, to those dependent upon them. Thus, under the watch of men, the land forces the water to collect to the benefit of families and growth or to release floods or droughts upon the populace. “

“I understand that your desired answer, what you want me to say, is that in some way the water has power in these situations too. But Angel, I honestly do not see how! The water goes where it must, and does what it must, in order to reach the sea. Without the land and works of men or beast to hold it back, it would not collect and store up strength for families. Nor would it make flood or drought possible at the hands of men. I come to the end of my thoughts that all you have shown me has only strengthened my original convictions when, much to my shame, I know you see things otherwise.”

The Angel smiled.

“Ah, such honesty as when you began our journey where the river met the sea! Take heart, I believe we two Pilgrims will find answers and God’s Truth yet! For fear not, the answer lies within pasts, and hints of possibilities you yourself saw.”

“The first dam was not, originally, a dam. Originally it was a wide, lazy waterfall beyond which lay a lake of depth and beauty. The waterfall brought water down the river, allowed washing, and had at points in the past been put to various uses, much as the mill we first passed was. Meanwhile, fishing and gathering took place at the lake.”

“However, after several years of drought the lake did not reach high enough for the waterfall to give water to those in the city below. The men of the city put themselves forth in great works of ingenuity and hard work to carefully create a pipe line down from the lake that would not drain the lake, but would still bring forth the water needed for life.”

“This, however, was not enough for their women. You see, even with the pipe there was the drought, and all were forced to practice wise use of their resources rather than life in the previous luxury. When the drought finally passed, prosperity returned, and the town boomed with population; they took up complaints with the men. They never wanted to face such danger again. They wanted a way to store up water for use on command.”

“They wanted to destroy the beautiful waterfall they were given in order to bring the safe, reliability of a man made dam.”

“Most men wanted nothing to do with the sort. They liked the beauty, they liked the benefits they already had, and they had heard old tales of dams that destroyed the wildlife around them by killing animals inadvertently or by a failing dam flooding the city below.”

“The women would have none of it. They called the men cowards and children. The women did so despite the men’s willingness to courageously face the dangers they knew, and hesitancy to face complicated problems they knew they couldn’t foresee.”

“Yet, there was a group of men more than happy to take the women at their word. Such men were called noble. Real men. They were heaped with the praise of women and the rewards that come with that praise of feminine companionship. Eventually enough men grew lukewarm in their defense of the natural beauty to allow the outspoken to do as they willed.”

“Such men raised the dam you saw. And when it came time to decide who would oversee the dam and how they would do so, the ones who built it claimed ownership of it. Such was logical as well as popular with all who had decided to build it.”

“Then came another time of trail. Crying out for the release of water, the women demanded the same goods to use as before, and went to the men that could give it to them. Rather than portion out the water wisely, the men opened the flow beyond what the dam was able to bear, leading to its destruction. As the men, not good men but not angels, saw what their actions wrought, they gave into temptation.”

“In the chaos that followed, the men with guns and power grabbed all the guns and power available. Meanwhile, families and homes that had been swept down stream tried to pull themselves together. The men came back to find their means to do so gone. The women found the men of the fortress making demands of them for protection and access to the only water that was clean in the wake of the flood. They gave in willingly.”

“In contrast to that, where we sit was built up slowly. First there was only the monastery here atop a bluff, with a single family of fishermen that lived below the bluff and along the river. Over time though, there came more holy men to the monastery, and more families that drew near to the benefits of living near such men of self reliance, temperance, and character that also had a ready source of life nearby in the river.”

“Very quickly, a simple river was unable to provide enough for the families gathered. Under the directions of the monks, the first damn here was built. A small, humble bridge that did not even raise the water level to displace any one family’s way of life. Yet still, the community grew. Ten years later, the monks found a way to build upon the original dam, and did so with continual growth in mind.”

“They found a way to harness the land and the water to provide the most benefit for the strengths of each. Where, as you saw at the beaver dam, there was little ability to further increase the land’s ability to hold water back and create life, in this area there was both more land and stronger flow of water. Rather than several families, we have several small towns here around the lake. Each family was drawn here originally, or created here in prosperity, by the benefits of the land, the water, and the guidance of the monks. This area has faced the same droughts and trials as the city down river did, for it too had to ration it’s desire for water and travel with buckets down to the river and back upwards for water in their homes. Yet they put their Hope in the monks, who found ways to gather more water, use more land, and waste less of each.”

“As you can see, the bridge is old now. Generations old, crumbling, leaking, and in need of repair. It cannot be further built upon until such repairs are made. Despite the warmth you would be greeted with by the monks, it is a cause of grave concern should the dam give in and break. Such a tragedy would lead to the death of all ways of life here and the dispersement of the towns dependent upon such life. Yet the monks faithfully toil, and gladly invite wise leaders of the community in joining them, to find a solution. They believe, and hope, and pray right now that a possible solution has been found as they review it among themselves. If so, it will lead to another growth of the area with an improvement to the old ways, harnessing the water into electricity which this region has lacked.”

“Should their Faith, Hope, and Love for God and each other persevere, they may succeed. It is not my place to say if such will be so.”

At this, the Angel’s speech stopped, and the man sighed at the sad fate of a way of life destroyed, should the towns fail to find a solution among themselves. Yet, after such mournful thoughts, he turned his mind back to his quest for wisdom. Brow knit, he weighed the words of an Angel against what he saw before him.

“Forgive me, Angel, for my impertinence. I still stand by my claims – the power still lies within the land. For the land has the ability to control water. I will admit that now I see that it is necessary to find the guidance of men to ignore the ignorant while also controlling the water against it’s natural inclinations, and that they must do so with the help of the land. Thus the land has the power, and must openly ignore the desire of water and the sway of fearful mortals both. The ability to do so is where the power lies.”

The Angel shook his head, “Do you not see where, eventually, the land and those that govern it’s use must take into account the flow of the water in all things? That, no matter how the land and the governor of the land uses it, water itself has a power that will be ignored only at the peril of all involved? To the evils of the men and women of the first town, the Lord’s words would be thus, ‘Come down and sit in the dust, O virgin daughter of Babylon; sit on the ground without a throne, O daughter of the Chalde’ans! For you shall no more be called tender and delicate. Take the millstones and grind meal, put off your veil, strip off your robe, uncover your legs, pass through the rivers. Your nakedness shall be uncovered, and your shame shall be seen. I will take vengeance, and I will spare no man. Our Redeemer – the Lord of hosts is his name – is the Holy One of Israel.’ [Isaiah 47:1-3]”

“And, to the bounty of the monks here, his words would ring of these praises, ‘For I will pour water on the thirsty land, and streams upon the dry ground; I will pour my Spirit upon your descendants, and my blessings on your offspring. They shall spring up like grass amid waters, like willows by flowing streams. This one will say, ‘I am the Lord’s’ [Isaiah 44:3-5]”

The Man shuddered as the Word flowed from the Angel’s lips, “So ignore and condemn the first kinds of people. That does not mean one should avoid the use of power, nor does it give power to the water. All it does is confirm that the land has the power, and that men of wisdom should be place over the governance of the land.”

The Angel moved its wings upwards, in a way that reminded the Man of how he had scattered women in the city with a sweep of his wings, but also of a very human shrug of nonchalance at a threat that did not concern it. “Tomorrow we will start the next leg of our journey. Afterwards, we will see if you believe the same.”

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