Delirium in a Waterless Pond

‏A long time has passed. The pond in which I am trapped is bone-dry; so dry that not a single drop of water can be found across its entire expanse, and thirst has brought me to my knees. No strength remains in my body; it feels as though I have taken refuge in this fortress of exile for centuries. Every day, with a piece of scrap iron I found, I claw at the earth and dig a hole, hoping to reach that hidden current of water I have been wandering in search of for days.

In this estrangement, I have grown close to a tiny worm that became my companion and friend a few months ago. Yesterday morning, he was not well; I suppose he, too, had tasted the bitterness of thirst. At nightfall, the wind brought a fresh, green leaf. I shredded it into tiny pieces and placed it before the little worm—who was my sole possession in this world. He gave me a strange look; he was thrilled. He swallowed the first bite but held back on the second. He gazed at me with foreign, sorrowful eyes, as if he realized that my lips had not been moistened by water or food for days. In the depths of his gaze, it was clear he knew his meager share could never rescue me from this famine or satisfy my hunger.

For hours, he stared at me, motionless. It was as if he had words to speak—untold stories, griefs, and a secret hidden in his chest, having never found a companion before to bare his soul to. The following day, that helpless creature lost his life because of me. How wondrous was this covenant and loyalty I witnessed from a worm; a loyalty we have seen from no one else.

He sacrificed his life. Perhaps he knew that leaving was sweeter than staying and suffering. Perhaps he understood that I, too, am a departing traveler. He comprehended my pain and no longer wished to carry the weight of my sorrow on his tiny shoulders.

O friend of my lonely days! You are gone, but I am still in the half-dead struggle for survival. A living soul who perhaps still hopes that one day rain will fall and satisfy his thirst... But no, no! Here, there is no sign of rain, nor of that little worm—that pure and kind friend of mine.

While digging his grave, my tears flowed involuntarily; it was beyond my control. The bond of our friendship was deeper than others could ever understand. Hours passed, and without realizing it, I kept digging the earth with that same piece of iron. Suddenly, I realized the truth: perhaps he knew that his death was the key to my survival.

He knew; it had been divinely inspired to him. He offered his life so that I could breathe and live.

Yes... the water, the dry pond, and that kind little worm; a friend whose affection still flows through every vein of my being. He had come to teach me that I must keep going. He had come to make me understand that as long as breath remains in your soul, you must not give up the struggle. He had come to say that as long as the world exists, one must live...

But no! I have collapsed and withered from within, and the spectators who look upon my past will never understand this pain.

Fahim Arezoo

May 13, 2026