At the end of the beginning of his long life, the man had a vision. The vision lasted either a moment or several years and, when it was over, the man was certain that the most important task of his life lay ahead of him. To share what he had seen. But to share what he had seen, the man would need ten thousand pencils, four pencil sharpeners, fifty hardbound notebooks, complete silence, and fresh water. In order to find complete silence, the man knew where to go. But it took either a moment or several years to require the necessary pencils and pencil sharpeners and notebooks. The man also purchased a big cigar, for the moment after he had captured the vision, to smoke in celebration, and then he flew to a hut on an island in the middle of a vast sea. And, at the beginning of the end of his long life, he began to write down in exact clarity what he had seen. It was easier to capture with words than he had imagined, but still, it took him a moment or several years until he was finished. Then it was finished. It was almost the end of the end of his long life and the two-hundred pages of all fifty journals were filled, the ten-thousand pencils had all been written into non-existence, and all four pencil-sharpeners could no longer perform their duty. The man had captured the vision as best he could, and to celebrate he stepped outside to rest by the seaside and smoke his big cigar. And he fell asleep. He slept for a moment or several years and dreamt that he was a hummingbird dreaming that he was a human who had captured a vision of the end of the world. When he awoke, he found, of course, that the hut had burned down with the words inside it. Scraps of black ash landed all around him, and the man burst into tears, but the world did not weep with him.

This Morning, For The First Time in 87 Years