Sometimes i wonder why we all build our towers and altars when in the end the world will pass.
A story is told about the richest man who lives in a world where the sun is hidden by clouds of smoke from industry, industry that the man built up. In his prime the man decided build his greatest tower, a tower that would pierce the clouds of smoke and reach the sunlight. Assigning his greatest machines and builders he constructed a mighty foundation that covered the area of an entire city, from there he used the strongest stones from his finest quarries to build the tower that would eventually reach the sky.
After fifteen years, the tower was still being built, the man realised that his entire workforce, the largest in the world might not be able to complete the tower in this lifetime. Digging deep into his fortunes, he hired thousands of additional builders and stone cutters and doubled the speed at which the tower is built up.
After thirty years, the tower was still being built, the man realised that he must devote himself entirely on its construction so he will able to see above the clouds in this lifetime. Leaving his empire to his son, the man poured all his time and money onto the tower, inventing new machines to speed up its construction. Day by day he would be at the top of the unfinished tower, supervising and watching each stone being laid. Sometimes his grandson would climb up and play among the birds that would sometimes settle on the stones.
After 50 years, the clouds were getting whiter and thinner as was the man. Having almost spent his entire fortune, the man couldn't afford all his workers and machines anymore and spent his days laying stones himself, though his grandson would often help.
60 years after the man started building his greatest tower, the last stone was laid. By this stage, the man was bedridden and his grandson carried him to the uppermost point of the tower, where the top of the cloud is just pierced and the light poured through. Several plants started growing in the cracks between the stones. On a bed the grandson built out of the last remaining stones, the man spent the rest of his days in the warmth of the sunlight.
A story is told about the richest man who lives in a world where the sun is hidden by clouds of smoke from industry, industry that the man built up. In his prime the man decided build his greatest tower, a tower that would pierce the clouds of smoke and reach the sunlight. Assigning his greatest machines and builders he constructed a mighty foundation that covered the area of an entire city, from there he used the strongest stones from his finest quarries to build the tower that would eventually reach the sky.
After fifteen years, the tower was still being built, the man realised that his entire workforce, the largest in the world might not be able to complete the tower in this lifetime. Digging deep into his fortunes, he hired thousands of additional builders and stone cutters and doubled the speed at which the tower is built up.
After thirty years, the tower was still being built, the man realised that he must devote himself entirely on its construction so he will able to see above the clouds in this lifetime. Leaving his empire to his son, the man poured all his time and money onto the tower, inventing new machines to speed up its construction. Day by day he would be at the top of the unfinished tower, supervising and watching each stone being laid. Sometimes his grandson would climb up and play among the birds that would sometimes settle on the stones.
After 50 years, the clouds were getting whiter and thinner as was the man. Having almost spent his entire fortune, the man couldn't afford all his workers and machines anymore and spent his days laying stones himself, though his grandson would often help.
60 years after the man started building his greatest tower, the last stone was laid. By this stage, the man was bedridden and his grandson carried him to the uppermost point of the tower, where the top of the cloud is just pierced and the light poured through. Several plants started growing in the cracks between the stones. On a bed the grandson built out of the last remaining stones, the man spent the rest of his days in the warmth of the sunlight.
posted by Shawn at 9:40 AM
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