There's a story that the old men of the Sahara tell. But they tell it very rarely. For they believe that repeating the story diminishes the message it carries.
But tell they must. At least once in their lives. That apparently is their burden and that is how it has been for ages past.
They're not sure what the message it carries really means. Most reckon that it's been repeated so many times, it's already diminished in its essence. While some think it's something that man wasn't meant to understand anyway. A few think it's worth starting a religion for (thankfully they've always been a minority).
It's a story nonetheless. An ancient one but a story at the end of it all. And you can only read so much into it. Cause it's a story after all.
But because of the storys' myth or perhaps because of the words it says, the eldest in the tribe is held in the utmost respect. He gets the choicest morsel of food, the first look at the new sun, water whenever he desires and an ear whenever he speaks.
The eldest after all heard the story in it's least diminished form. And he knows more than they ever will.
There's a story that the old men of the Sahara tell...and there are still places where the old don't get shunted to nursing homes.