Well of Compassion

There once was a woman who was a glorious well full of compassion. She would offer cups of selfless drinks of her compassion to those who passed by, whether she knew a name or not. Some passerby's would take a sip and move along in their own lives, while others would stop from time to time basking in the taste and relishing in the comfort it provided. The woman would give freely of her drinks of compassion, and find peace and meaning, smiles and purpose of her life.

One day, a man came to the woman's well, he was broken and not well, his mind his worst enemy, his despair emulating through the air. The woman could see the man was in pain and offered him drinks of compassion. He lingered and gulped, he wiped the wasted drips off his chin and proclaimed relief. But the man did not move along like the others, instead he callously leaned upon the delicate edges of the woman's well and asked for more.

The woman looked down into her well and saw the beauty of compassion creating deep depths and granted his request. His need was great, and her well was full. He leaned into the well taking great measure to hold as much of her liquid in his large hands and began greedily quenching his own thirst.

The woman strained against his weight and felt the sides of her well crack, but she did not stop the man, his needs were great and she felt her well was strong enough to safely cradle his burdens. The mans thirst for compassion did not dissipate, drinks and drinks were taken, and he became blind to the sad eyes looking down upon his greed.

It wasn't long before others who had frequented the well of compassion came to seek comfort in it's glory and the woman gazed over the mans back and with sad resignation turned others in need away. There was no room left for others to dip a grateful hand into it's pool, the man had encompassed every inch of the well and would cast hungry angry eye's at any that dared approach.

The woman became tired from his need. The woman held her hands to the water that began to seep from the cracks created from his weight. She looked to the horizons, to the ground, to the sun and realized she was alone with his indulgence. She quietly whispered to the man that her walls were cracking and he was taking every drop of what she loved about herself.

He looked down and said there was still compassion in her well and the cracks were of no concern to him. His need was great and his troubles insatiable. He needed without regard to the pain he began to create to the woman of compassion.

The woman keep her sad eyes locked on the horizon, she could no longer bear to watch the man frolic and dive through her well. Her hands could no longer contain the leaks that had created valleys down her walls, the compassion the man could not hold completely in his hands leaked to the ground.

One day a friend passed closely by the woman, the friend looked upon the greedy man who smiled with glee in his pool of comfort and looked upon the woman of compassion who would not meet his gaze. He called out and asked her why she allowed the man to drink all of her compassion and break cracks into her once strong walls. She did not look up, but put a finger to her lips and whispered shhhh, don't let the man hear you for I fear he will become angry and kick a wall down and then there will be nothing left of me.

The friend looked a bit closer and whispered to the woman, friend, your well is dry and your eyes no longer carry compassion for life, you are already empty, there's nothing left for him to break. The woman looked down, and around, and at her marred, cracked walls and dry well and realized the friend was right.

She leaned down to the man who was crawling on her well floor searching for missed drops of compassion and whispered to him there is nothing left. He ignored her words and continued to scrape and lick at it's barren space. She raised her voice slightly and told the man he had broken her walls and drained her glory.  He raised his hand to her and demanded she create more compassion for his needs were great. When she proclaimed she had nothing left he told her how worthless she had become and kicked and broke down her walls. The woman of compassion kept her eyes on the horizon and sought explanation for her destruction. She did not understand how her glory had turned on her and made her eyes so sad. Alone with nothing, she realized was better then giving everything she had to another's need. Compassion could not help greed, no matter how much she wished the man would heal.

With her realization, the woman that was once full of compassion let a single tear fall from her thoughts and saw that the tear remained in her well. She looked upon the horizon and saw her beautiful friend who called out to her, it's all right to cry dear woman of compassion, for with your tears your well will once again become the gloryitonce was. We can patch the cracks, though they will always remain, we can plug the holes that may spring from time to time, but your well will once again fill to all it's glory.

The woman of compassion, began to cry.

~Though it take a seeming eternity, the well which may currently hold barely enough for the woman's own needs, will one day again be full to overflowing. Though the woman may fear another greedy person, she will one day become as generous as before. Though it seems that will be a far off day, it will not. See, while the woman isn't looking, all around her are secretly pouring water from their wells into hers. One cup at a time may not make a noticeable difference at first, but one day the woman will look down and marvel. And then she will look up and smile.
-Paul  Aurora Walking Vacation ~

I couldn't have written a better ending to my thoughts, thank you Paul.

RH