The green-eyed monster keeps running as the water level keeps rising in the swamp. His whole body is a big ball made of green clovers. The clovers flutter as he moves, and spatter drops of water that reflects the faint light of the sky in a humble gleaming manner. Only until a moment ago, he had lived in the cave among rocks that were covered in soft damp moss. They were always there for him (they are rocks, and rocks don’t have legs). They cared for him, they enjoyed his company, but they mocked him for having legs, they argued with him, sometimes they said mean things to him. “Just like a family,” he thought, “family gets mad sometimes!” Now he is moving away from them.
He keeps running. The water has reached his knees. Every stomp he makes now gets heavier, sending out bigger splashes of water stirring up more silt adding to the muddiness of the path. Although it is a cloudy afternoon, he has never been under this much light. There was a hole on the side of the dome in the cave, over which trees gathered around and most of the time blocked out the sun. Only on a few days the sun managed to shine diagonally very close to the ground under the crown of the trees and dropped into the cave. During such a time, he and the rocks just stayed still for hours marveling at the amber beam shooting across the air. He realized the rocks not only were covered in green moss, but also had some clear crystals attached to them. The crystals slowly picked up the color of the beam, diffusing it into the atmosphere and lighting up the cave in a dull mist with sharp golden sparkles.
The water has risen to his chest. He can feel the pressure on his body, his legs have got tired. He has hardly worked his legs as much. Back in the cave, he sometimes snuck out to explore around it. Never this far. The family of rocks wanted him immobile, as the father rock said “our duty is to stay still and let the flow of time slide on us”. The green-eyed monster, however, felt differently. Only the Serpent urged him to go do what he wanted. She accompanied him outside, explained to him everything. That’s why he knows colors other than the monotone of his cave life: That of a peachy sky in the late afternoon, of the golden dashes of the sun when it rises, of the endless meadow as green as his fur with sprinkles of million flowers.
He is running, or is he not? His feet do not touch the ground. He floats in the water that now drowns the whole swamp. The swamp has become a lake. He can’t run because running requires one’s feet touching the ground. The Serpent once told him that. He panicked. He swirls around in currents which carry him aimlessly. Ah! Something crosses his legs underwater! Oh! This current tries to drown him. Unlike in the cave, he does not know where he is drifted to. Unlike in the cave, he has no walls to stop him. Whatever comes next is beyond his consciousness, beyond his prediction. He wishes the Serpent would be here, she would know what to do. After many many minutes of attempt to run against the current, he hopelessly gives himself up. If the Serpent was here, she would just easily bend her body, swiftly glide between the water flows. She would first hold her head high up looking around, and then she would dive in between these flows, and then she would contract one side, release another, and one motion at a time slither through this flood. He imagines, and she would say “don’t go against the flow, get a hold of it.” Only if it was as simple! Lost in thought, the green-eyed monster does not realize that his body is moving in the water like the Serpent. It must be the spiritual connection they share that teaches him this! It has always been she who guides him through every step. He pulls himself together, focuses on the new found remotely dispersed spiritual energy from the Serpent and starts to swim. He now knows where to go. And toward that, he confidently steers himself among the flood currents.
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