The Prophet

Sarkon was walking through the vaporous mists of the spiritual paths, not finding his way.

He had studied all religions, most known philosophers, and none had been able to give him satisfying answers. After a while he realized he had to find these answers in himself, and thus became utterly self-absorbed, traveling through his own thoughts only.

He became the Prophet of no religion, the Prophet without prophecy. It wasn't that he lacked imagination; he just was too demanding with himself to believe in anything that didn't explain exactly Why and How with the most solid logic.

After a while he couldn't see much anymore. The fog had grown so thick that he didn't see where he was putting his feet anymore. He looked behind himself, and couldn't see anything either. White mists surrounded him. He was lost in a cloud.

He had never been able to find his way in thought; now he couldn't even find his way out.