Life is a Swamp

Life
is a Swamp

 

    Life is a swamp.
It is a bog with hidden paths, quicksand, and tar pits. When a human being is
thrown unwillingly into the harsh and unforgiving marsh, the foolish young child
automatically chooses the easiest path. When the selected trail leads to
unexpected pits and nests of foul, biting insects, the sudden realization that
this will not be easy, comes to the child. As he forces his way through the
quagmire, the once shallow waters become deeper, and rocks hide just below the
surface of murky, stagnant pools. Tendrils of unnamed, slimy weeds pull at sore
ankles as the young man wades through dark, filthy waters. Vines hang in his
path, forcing the traveler to either dodge them, or cut them down. The man
wandering the marsh must carry a long stick in front of him, and test every
step, before placing his full weight on the clump of weed and rotting wood. He
must be more careful now than ever in choosing his paths, because he is now in
the middle of the bog. Creeks and pools of brown water are deeper than they
appear, and the path that looks the most tempting will lead him astray. Lumps
of grass that look strong fall away and sink into the mud when he takes a step.
Slowly, so slowly, the paths becomes slightly easier to follow, and safer to
walk on. Most of the hard work is over now. The old man can see the end of the
unbearable bog through the trees and cat-tails. Finally, with creaking bones
and tired joints, the elder breaks through the line of trees, to come to a
better place. I do not know what that place is like, for I am still fighting my
way through the biting insects and unexpected pits.