To See The Whole World

Someday I want to go walking along that long winding red dusty village road.

I wonder if the long bamboos will still be there, bending over in the gentle wind, welcoming me to the village. And if the village children will mill around me, asking me who I am, reminding me that I am none the wiser for having digested a hundred tomes of philosophy.

And I wonder if on both sides of the road the golden rice will wait, reflecting the silent joy of the autumn sky.

And then I will point out the tallest tree on the horizon and ask her.

'If I get up on top of that tree, do you think I will be able to see the whole world?'

And she will smile at me.

'You are still soooooo young. How can you possibly believe in such a thing? No, dear, the world is much much bigger. You won't be able to see the whole world even if you climbed up that tree.'

'But how can I see the whole world?'

'That's why we send you to school, don't we? So that some day you shall be able to read all the books in the world and see the whole world.'

This time, though, she will not be around to tell me that.

And I too would not wish to listen to her advice.

I would walk up to that tallest tree, if it is still around, and climb it.

From its top, I shall finally see the whole world.