He sat on the hill, alone, dejected by his fellows. As they crowded together in the vale, he could hear their voices calling him names, complaining that he was too good for them, his own kind. But he just listened to them, not replying. He knew the truth of himself, and that was all that mattered to him. He saw things they did not, and listened to the world around him, not just his peers, but all the rest of the world, as well. And this is why he'd chosen to sit on the hill, rather than in the group... to take notice of all the world, not just a small part.
As he sat, listening, the voices of a thousand souls came to him again. He could hear them calling to him. Some wishing him to come away with them, others complaining of the hurt of the earth and sky and how mankind did nothing but pollute and destroy all around. Still, there was the one small voice of those thousand that spoke out to him, the one on the hill, telling him he was right and good. He felt unseen arms wrap about his frame, and invisible tendrils, like fingers sift through his hair, caressing his skin.
Time passed, as it tends to do, and he grew, on that hill; taking in all around him still. Each day the voices, attached with it's unseen being came to him, caressing him and filling him with joy and comfort in doing what he had felt was the right thing. He loved the voices, and the familiar way which the unseen arms wrapped around him. It encouraged him to dig his feet deep into the earth, feeling the water and life stretch up from the ground to feed his very soul.
But a day came when two creatures came to sit beside him. And he watched and listened to them, sharing in their joy that they had found in one another's company. One smiled at the other, and then began to dig at his skin, marring his flesh and making his essence run like rain down his weathered skin. They then dumped a strange liquid at his feet, that made him tingle throughout, and hurt from inside. Then they went away.
The unseen one was there through it all, whispering to him of their harmful ways, and at the same time, holding him dearly, tenderly, as he was wracked with the pains of the agonizing tortures he'd just gone through. The unseen, after a time, brought water; pouring it above him and easing his suffering. After that, he sat in silence, wondering of the incident for a very long time. He did not think to pay heed to what was around him, until he heard his peers from below crying in pain, in horror, as their numbers. He saw them taken away, stones brought back in their place. He watched as a structure was built, the stones stacked in formation that closed out the unseen and the light. He wondered at this development, and what it might mean for him.
More of the hurtful ones came, but he found these few did not hurt. They were there to play, and share in the joys of life, with him. He saw them come, and grow and then go... not returning. He wondered at them, and where they had gone, but still watched, waiting to see what would become of is surroundings next. He felt the insects crawl on him, the unseen brushing them away, when needed, but he did not pay them heed, he was too preoccupied with the structure, and wondering if it's inhabitants would return. He listened to the unseen, and knew that he would sit there for a long time to come, just the Fool on the Hill that his fellows had called him so long ago.
***
Day after day
Alone on a hill
The man with the foolish grin
is keeping perfectly still.
But nobody wants to know him,
They can see that he's just a fool.
And he never gives an answer
But the fool on the hill
Sees the sun going down
And the eyes in his head
See the world spinning 'round.
Well on the way
Head in a cloud
The man of a thousand voices
talking perfectly loud.
But nobody ever hears him
Or the sound he appears to make
And he never seems to notice
But the fool on the hill
Sees the sun going down
And the eyes in his head
See the world spinning 'round.
And nobody seems to like him
They can tell what he wants to do
And he never shows his feelings
But the fool on the hill
Sees the sun going down
And the eyes in his head
See the world spinning 'round.
And he never listens to them
He knows that they're the fools,
They don't like him
The fool on the hill
Sees the sun going down
And the eyes in his head
See the world spinning 'round.
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