Some kind of a game

On a hot evening an old man walked along a cart path on his way to the village. A young man saw him and offered him some cool water, just drawn up from a well.

Surprised, the old man smiled at him and said; “ you are kind to share with me this refreshment. What is it I may do for you in return?”

The young man thought for a while and spoke, ”my offering was just an act of friendship, as you old man, are my neighbor. But I am curious about certain things you may help me with.

”The old man raised one eyebrow, as he inquisitely looked into the boy’s eyes. Again the young man spoke, “ why is it that when I ask questions to my elders they answer back as if in riddles, as if they were playing some kind of a game? Why do they not speak out their wisdom that I may then know and understand my query? 

The old man started to laugh which quickly withdrew into a smile. And he then put his thin-callused hand on the young man’s shoulder and spoke to him, “Truth is better served in small portions as its bounty will not only fill your chalice, but drown those who come to gluttonously drink from its fountain. Feel not that you are a victim of its surge, for beyond your humble shelter the earth sinks into the bowls of its bosom, and truth does not feel the pebble it has consumed. 

Truth does not come directly at you but spirals around you so that you may pick from its tree, that which you can easily reach, but then must carefully climb for its trophies. To consume its fruit all at one time, you would smother in its sweetness.

The young man look confused, turned and slowly walked into the sunset, one step at a time.