A man walked alone in the desert for longer than he could remember.

No one cared or noticed that he was thirsty, starving, and wasting away. He even stopped caring about himself. He just walked.

But then he found the trickle.

At first, it was so generous that it felt like he’d be able to make a home by the trickle. He fantasized about the garden and home that he might erect. With just a few months with such a bountiful supply of water, there would be no end to the joy he might find by the trickle.

Soon, the trickle became a veritable oasis. Not a mirage but the kind that sultans kill for. One morning, the trickle was gone, and the man despaired. He denied its absence. He bargained for its return. He cried and went mad. Just as he thought about leaving the trickle, the water flowed once more. Not a lot. Just enough to let the man know that the trickle was there for him.

The man rejoiced in the trickle’s return. He started to get comfortable again and slept soundly. But in the morning, the trickle was barely a trickle. It was there. Just enough for the man not to wander, but it wasn’t like before. The trickle would be back to normal tomorrow, he thought.

The trickle was more generous the next day, and all was right in the world.

The man felt loved and safe.

In the morning, the man was worried that the trickle had once again gone dry. He rushed to check on the trickle. It was still there. Just a trickle, but that was fine. The man sighed in relief. He took a small drink, and he was content.

The next morning, the trickle was just gone. The man was patient for a while, but the madness set in after some time. He didn’t know when the trickle would be back. He didn’t know if the trickle would be back at all. It came back that one time, but what if it didn’t come back this time?

His thoughts turn to the hills in the distance. How many dunes? How many miles of dry sand must he go before he finds more water? He couldn’t remember how many years of dry sand the man had walked before he met the trickle. The trickle had saved him. The trickle would come back.

When the man awoke on the third day, he found himself lying in two inches of water. He was soaked! He didn’t mind because the trickle was back and better than ever. How could this not mean the beginning of a future? Right here. Right in the sand with the trickle.

The torrent quickly turned back into a trickle, and the man accepted it. No life could be filled with an endless supply of water. Could it? No. The trickle would be enough. The man continued to subsist on the trickle for a while until the trickle dried up for the last time.

The man was devastated and confused. What had he done to incur the wrath of the gods? He waited for as many days as they could before realizing the trickle was truly gone. Even if it did come back, the trickle had always been unreliable and troublesome. The man would be better off out there, in the desert. Maybe he would find an even better source of water. He fantasized about what civilization might look like.

The man had no tears to give as he walked along the ridges of a steep dune. It rained, and it helped, but it wasn't enough. By the time the rain stopped and the sun came out, the man was unable to remember which direction the trickle had been.

The man walked for what seemed like centuries. Mirages were few but tempting, but every time he got close, there was nothing there. His feet continued even as the sand hills melted around him. He kept trudging through the desert until one day he saw something. A slightly darker patch of sand just underneath a rock overhang that led into a small cave.

The man investigated the area cautiously. Coming out of the ground just at the mouth of the cave, there was a small pool of water. The man was so thirsty that he drank from the pool with his hands, not caring what might be in the water. The man found that even after he drank his fill, the small pool slowly filled up again. The man was weary of the pool, but he slept peacefully in the cave. It was the first peaceful sleep since the trickle.

The man woke up, and while he wanted to check on the pool, he had resigned himself to not giving the pool his attention just yet. He would check on it when he felt like it. When he did check, the pool was there waiting.

The pool was there. No more. No less. Just there, and he drank from the pool. His weariness waned a bit, and he decided to stay awhile by the pool. He’d keep his eye on the pool, but if it stayed around, he might give the cave a chance, too.

The man stayed, and the pool was ever present. Even when it was slower to refill, the man could always see a little bit of water left for him. Just enough to feel safe.

Soon, the man built a monument to the pool. The pool now flowed up to a basin atop a modest spire. The man erected his world around the basin. He built defenses so no one could take his pool. His sustenance. He built a fire to cook the meat he was able to scare up. The man built enough around the pool that he soon had a small garden, and he was happy.

One day, the man felt brave and went exploring. This was the farthest the man had been away from the pool since he had found it, but he felt confident that he could find his way back to the pool.

On his way back, the man was uncertain about his route. He trekked up hills that seemed to have changed. They didn’t look familiar. The smoke from his fire was nowhere to be seen. The man started to feel that he was lost. That his life by the pool was lost.

After a day of searching, the man decided to make camp and try again in the morning.

As he traveled, he became distraught. He was distressed. His mind demanded definitions but delivered divisive admonishments. He despaired. The man was depressed.

The man continued. He felt like he had before the pool.

Alone. Confused.

The man noticed something in the distance. It was something he recognized and hoped was not a mirage. He made his way cautiously to the thing. Could it be?

A small trickle of water was careening, ever so gently, down the face of a small rock jutting out of the sand. Just a little bit of water was all he needed. Just a little bit of water. It had been so long. The small amount of water was nice, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the pool. He could drink from the trickle, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted the pool.

The man sat by the trickle and wept.