Searching for the Man in the Moon

Once upon a time there was a little white pigeon. When he was born, God directed one of his angels, Iblees, that he was to clip the pigeon's wings every time they grew long enough to allow him to fly. So Mr. Little White Pigeon grew up, watching all the other pigeons who lived around his nest, fly into the sky, dipping through the sun as it sank lower into the sea, and returning with their daily booty. He was a happy, optimistic pigeon and it never really occured to him that he too, could have had the ability to fly. He just was. And he was happy.
One day, Iblees was watching this little pigeon and God asked him to prostrate before it. Iblees refused to do any such thing in great indignation. He was, after all, the archangel, and this was but a pigeon who didn't even have it in him to rebel against God for the injustice he caused him every day. Thunder struck the world, and Iblees revolted. He also fled. So in some sense of the word, it wasn't really a revolt, but Iblees, who had been watching the passivity of the pigeon for some time, had begun to feel that he too, was nothing too different from that pigeon. And as his insecurity mounted, so did his outward indignation. He didn't really rebel against God, he rebelled against himself.
At any rate, there was now no one left to cut off Mr.Little White Pigeon's wings, and suddenely it started flapping around with two soft, floating boats of white, cotton feathers hovering on either side. At first, this confused the pigeon. He didn't really know what to do with them and they hindered his daily activities of hopping nimbly from one tree branch to the other. He began to pray that God would take these back and allow him to live his life as it was. He had been happy. Now, he found it hard to hop around, and since this hopping around formed the hub of all his activities, he began to lose color. The other pigeons, ofocurse, never noticed his wings. For them, he was Mr.Little White Pigeon who Didnot Fly. And his newfound wings went completely unnoticed.
One day, Iblees happened to come across this huddled mass of misery, and with a stubborn indignation to prove something to God, but essentially to himself, he gave the pigeon a hard push. Poor Mr. Little White Pigeon toppled off his familar branch and, as if in slow motion, began to fall down towards the hard surface of the ground. The pigeon panicked. He thrashed about, trying to find some way to save himself, and in his fear, his wings rose.
Mr. Little White Pigeon almost died in amazement when he realized that he was flying.

God watched from above and smiled silently to himself. He watched Iblees rubbing his hands in self-satisfied triumph, and wondered at his oblivion. He thought that he had finally managed to enable the pigeon to rebel against God. To overcome odds that God placed before him. God smiled. Rebellion. Like Iblees, he thinks, the pigeon did not rebel against God, he rebelled against himself. And in that rebellion, he found what his wings were capable of. And they will all think that they fight against me, that they rise above the constants I place them in. Except that they forget, that nothing is a constant. Everything changes. And change brings them closer to a final understanding. And those who appear to believe in me, will fight amongst themselves over these constants, forgetting that change IS balance. And I, too, am balance. And those who do not believe in me, will fight their own self, for in each I have placed the firefly that burns with the fire of change, and each step brings them closer to the final understanding. Fly, my pigeon, fly. For your flight, is but your fight against yourself. You will have to die in your freedom, to overcome the final obstacle to freedom, that is, freedom itself. And then, you will find me.
And I will embrace you, my firefly of change.
Iblees, you too, are my pigeon. And your fire too, shall one day, understand.