Short story "The True Meaning of Peace"

The Real Meaning of Peace

There once was a king who offered a prize to the artist who would paint the best picture of peace. The contest stirred the imagination of artists everywhere. Many artists wanted a chance at winning the prize. Paintings from far and wide began to arrive. The king looked at all the pictures, uncovering one peaceful scene after another as the on-lookers clapped and cheered. The tensions grew as only two pictures remained veiled. As the king pulled the cover from one, a hush fell over the crowd. It was a picture of a calm lake. The lake was a perfect mirror for peaceful towering mountains all around it. Overhead was a beautiful blue sky with fluffy white clouds. Along the grassy shore, a flock of sheep grazed undisturbed. All who saw this picture thought that it was a perfect picture of peace. Surely this was the winner. The king uncovered the last painting, and the crowd gasped in surprise. Could this be peace? This picture had mountains like the previous painting but these were rugged and bare. Above was an angry sky, from which rain fell and in which lightning played. Down the side of the mountain tumbled a foaming waterfall; the crowd could almost feel its cold, penetrating spray. This did not look peaceful at all. But when the king looked closely, he saw a little bird had built a nest on a branch of a tree. A tree that reached out in the direction of the tumultuous waterfall. Yet there, in the midst of the rush of angry water, undisturbed in her stormy surroundings, sat the mother bird on her nest - in perfect peace. The king chose the last picture.

A king had organized a competition to reward the most beautiful picture that described peace. Many artists with many paintings participated. The king looked at all the paintings while the crowd behind him clapped and cheered. Tensions mounted when only two paintings remained to be discovered. The king discovered the first: he was painting a calm lake with the mountains surrounding it, above the blue sky with white clouds, below the grass with a flock of grazing sheep. Everyone thought he would be the winner.

The king discovered the last painting and the crowd was surprised. There were bare mountains drawn, an angry black sky, rain and lightning. A waterfall cascading down the side of the mountain with cold, penetrating spray, it was by no means a peaceful picture. But when the king approached to take a better look at it, he realized that there was a little bird that had built its nest on a branch of a tree, where despite all that noise around it it seemed harmonious and peaceful. The king chose this picture.