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A stranger claims to have held the Light. He is a stranger, in a strange land. His claims are even stranger. Strangeness scares people. But not having the Light scares people more.

The stranger claims to be enlightened. He says to have touched the Light with his own, mortal hands. He walks with a limp and an old wooden cane. He is blind.

“Why should we believe you,” people ask. “Even the strongest man, the bravest soul, the smartest minds cannot achieve the Light.”

He does not answer and simply asks for shelter.

No one believes him. No one follows him. He sleeps under a tree for the night.

The next morning the stranger is gone. He leaves without a sound. All that remains is a trail of footsteps and his cane.

The villagers approach the cane. It faintly glows in the morning haze. Then, in a bright flash, it vanishes.

The witnesses are stunned.

The village men scramble in the direction of the footsteps. They are shallow, uneven, steps of a cripple. Suddenly, the steps make a sharp turn into a thicket of trees, having a dramatically increased pace. Surprised, the villagers desperately rampage through the forest, clearing patches of grass in search of tracks, but to no avail. One by one, each searcher dropped to the ground in despair and tiredness, and eventually all returned to the village.

A year passes, and the search for the old man has been given up. The village is peaceful, but the urge for light is still present. Hardly anyone has the will to search for it anymore.

A young man with aspiring dreams takes to the forest. He was present during the cane’s disappearance. His eyes still shine with the same glow. He has not given up on his search.

He approaches the forest. Once trampled and smothered, the thicket has regrown. The young man fearlessly plunges into the branches alone. The shadows enclose him.

The vines and branches scrape his arms. The air grows thin. The young man struggles to breathe. He pushes onwards.

The ground trembles and quakes. Tree roots twist and churn, rolling under the young man’s feet. He persists forward.

A flood of bats storms into the young man’s body. They scratch and bite, tearing at flesh. He battles through.

The young man bursts into a clearing. The trees dispersed, as if allergic to something in the clearing. It is a man. A cripple, the same cripple from a year ago. His eyes, blind to light, curiously scans over the young man.

He laughs. “Oh, finally. A man worthy of the Light.”

The young man, gasping, replied, “Oh yes, the Light. I am here for the Light. Please grant me its grace.”

The old man gazes into the forest. The shadows darken. “You know, I’m not blind.”

“I know.”

The old man smiles. “I used to be, many, many years ago.”

“But the Light granted you sight, correct?”

“Yes, and I am grateful.” He takes to breathe. “But by then I had already grown accustomed to being in the dark. I had no use for sight.”

The old man gingerly touches the young man’s heart. “Oh, what a strong heart. Oh, the wonders it can achieve.”

He smiles.

“The Light is not a reward that can be sought after. Nor does it hold the purpose of gold or wealth. It can only be given.” The old man sighs. “Those who seek the Light all their lives eventually lost themselves in darkness.”

To this, the young man grows outraged. He weeps.

The old man sadly smiles. He raises his hand, and a bright flash of Light consumes him. It blinds the young man.

The old man, like his cane, disappears.

The young man has lost his sight.

【红霞译文】

人爱追光，因为光璀璨生辉。

人抓不住光，即使捕捉到的光芒也将转瞬即逝，消耗殆尽。

陌生人声称抓住了光。他初来乍到，说话不着边际。陌生固然可怕，但没有光更让人恐惧无度。

陌生人宣告憬然有悟。他亲手触摸过光，尽管腿瘸跛行，拄着一根旧的木拐，是个盲人。

“我们为啥相信你？”人们质疑：“即使最强壮的力士、最勇敢的灵魂、最睿智的思维都无法获取光芒。”

他没作答，仅要求有一处立身之地。

没人理睬他，没人跟随他，他只好在树下过夜。