The Last Part

And just like that the trip was over.

Beyond the swamp was a grassy place with sunlight and warm earth. The hermit stepped onto it and immediately took off his shoes. He felt the green and brown on his soles, and his two legs were like trees newly but firmly rooted. He turned to the Boatman.

"Is this the end?" he asked.

"Yes," said the Boatman. "I just need my payment."

"What is it?"

"I think you know," and the Boatman almost smiled.

"Is it my soul?"

"It is."

Then the hermit became confused. "I have two," he said, and looked at the ground.

"No, you don't. Just your own."

The hermit looked at the Boatman. "I have carried another's with me all this way."

The Boatman shook his head. "No, you haven't. It was gone long ago."

"What do you mean? No one would take it from me. I couldn't lose it. I couldn't get it off. How do you mean, it was gone long ago?"

"Just what I say. You think giving his soul to you could save that young man? You think his soul was preserved through all he did? Souls aren't like that."

"Did he transgress much?"

"Yes," answered the Boatman. "But it was the senseless good he did that counted against him, that turned his soul to what it is now."

"What is it?"

The Boatman held up a sack filled with ashes and maggots. "This," he said. "It fell apart quite quickly, and then one day it was gone altogether. Surely you found it growing lighter?"

"Yes," said the hermit. "But I just thought I was getting used to it."

"It didn't belong with you. Another man's soul isn't something you can get used to. But nevermind about his soul anymore. Give me what I want and I'll leave you here in peace because I must."

The old man found the soul slipped lightly from his shoulders. He remembered trying to give away the other one he supposed he also carried, trying to cut it off the way sailors cut dead rigging from the mast during storms.

"Is it wisdom to give you my soul?" the old man asked.

"It's wisdom kept your soul intact," said the Boatman. "But not your own."

"I looked for wisdom and never found it."

"Who does? But you looked in the right places. That's all a man can do."

The hermit never found his wife and daughter; he didn't miss them anymore. He found a  mountain, but didn't climb it. He stayed in the valley where there were people, and everyone felt the warmth of God on their faces, and were filled with untranslatable joy forever until they could no longer remember what they had been like as mere people.