The Diamond Smith

 A man was cutting diamonds, and in order to minimise wastage used a torturous technique involving fine diamond-edged wheels. A manufacturer of similar jewellery in ground glass said:

“We merely grind off the surplus, and so work more efficiently.”

 

“Maybe,” said the Diamond Smith, “but so precious are my diamonds that even a tiny fragment is worth sparing , and so my care is worthily bestowed.”

 

“True, true,” assented the worker in glass. “I see that your attention is relatively devalued by the scarcity of your material. Well, never mind - soon we will have techniques for making diamonds by the ton, and you can afford to waste your surplus, as we do.”

 

The Diamond Smith was unhappy.

 

“But I only wish to work with what is precious!”

 

“It is false,” said the worker in glass, “for your preciousness springs from mere scarcity and is the index of your own poverty.”

 

“And the flower springs from the dung heap,” retorted the Diamond Smith. “Do you not see, terrible Typhonian man, it is not the scarcity I would harbour, but the love, the love, the love…..”

 

 ~ Al Ewigkeit. 

I miss you old friend...