A man walks through the jungle of misfortune, he is weary, he is heavy, and he is dying. He longs to picked up by a human, by somebody, or something, to tell him that it will be okay, that his fear will not come true. That he will not die alone. As his eyes glaze over from the perils of his situation, a figure walks to him through the heavy underbrush. He stops at the man's malnourished head, staring into his eyes. He says to him, "I'm afraid I cannot relieve your fears stranger, but I may offer words to leave you before you go." The old man nods and tilts his head back to listen. He closes his eyes and rests on the ground. "You walk a most unfortunate path stranger. Many have walked here before, and many will after. All will at some time, some later than others. Some will walk this path only once, some many times, but we all must walk it. What is it you ask? Why what a question! It is the path to death of course, and you have reached the end. I'm happy that you may be able to rest your feet after all these years. Your path has been harder than most. But you still walk alone, just as we all do. The philosophers your kind loves to idol so much are wrong stranger. They hold beloved the idea that humans will prosper by ourselves and walk the path of death and misfortune together. Those types always have the hardest time when they get here, as it is not that way, but the other. Stranger, I built this world for you to rise against the misfortune and live in success together with others, but you have never seen it. So, I grant you with my presence, even though I am not truly here. Hopefully I can give you some piece of mind stranger. I may just be a passing stranger on your way to death, but consider the direction I walk in. It is opposite yours, I am not moving toward my death, therefore I am a coward. Ah! But I created death! And life as well! So I must not be a coward. Yes, I must not be. Thank you, stranger, for bestowing upon me this conversation with you. I have reached my next goal." He finished with a smile on his face. The old man lie there, unmoving, before speaking. "I thought you created goals, that is why you walk backwards, as you have no true place to strive for." The man only laughed. "I am not god," he said "nothing but a passing stranger who chose to go against the stream. You ask do I go back because I have no goals. I do not. I go back because I have mistakes, and mistakes impede goals, but also strengthen them. Oh well, I better get going. It was nice talking to you, stranger." The man the rises from his knees, and keeps walking upstream, where nobody should be allowed to go. The old man lets out a breath, raggedy and final. And using it he speaks his last words. "Thank you, God, for not letting me be alone. You are well and truly a stranger to me, a sinner, but I shall walk with you against the current now. Just allow me this freedom, and I will catch up to you again, stranger."