There once lived a boy with his parents.
And as a child, they thought highly of him and deemed him the object of their dreams.
They clothed him and fed him and protected his body from the elements.
And when this boy become a young man,
it was instilled in his heart to become a poet and a musician.
But this shattered his parents' dreams.
For they would not have a son who chased after the Mist.
He was cast out of their greater home.
He walked the road and found shelter in the homes of strangers.
They took him in and gave ear to his poems and listened to his songs
and admired the very power which gave him the ability to sing.
And this man grew strong and ate from the tables of strangers.
After many years had passed,
news came to his parents that their only son had become very wealthy
and that he was living in a large Mansion with many servants.
Soonafter, his parents came to pay him a visit.
And as they hurried through the crowds, they cried:
He is our son, our firstborn.
And the son heard their words, became sorrowful and rebuked them.
But they replied:
Oh dear son, how can you rebuke us when we have clothed you and fed you
and sheltered your body from the elements since you were but a child?
And he answered:
This is true.
This much you have done.
And upon my death, this body shall be given to you.
But that which is not of the flesh, which has erected this Mansion, belongs not to you.
It belongs to those strangers who took me in when you did not.
It belongs to those who had faith in me when you did not.
For they are my mother and father and you are the strangers and the foreigners.
And even though they heard his words, his mother and father felt betrayed
and did not understand.
And as they were exiting the grounds, they kept crying:
He is our son, our firstborn.
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