Upstream

He was sitting by the riverside, on a sunny morrow, dropping pebbles in its rushing waters. On a moment of whimsy he jumped into the tremulous waters and began to swim. He pushed hard and he pushed strong, he pushed with determination and he pushed with patience. Years later though when he stopped to catch his breath, he realized that his hands were sore, the water had wrinkled his fingertips, the riverbed had cut into his arms at places too many, the fishes had gnawed away at the scars too fresh and yet all he had managed to cover was a few measly miles. He made his way to the river bed and plopped down on the smoothened stones heaving a sigh of exasperation. Soaking up the tender sunshine and  letting his head hang low he thought of why he hadn't made it as far as he had believed himself to be capable of. He cursed his weak mortal limbs, his lack of persistence and even his lack of raw talent. He cursed the cold water and he cursed the stones that ever so dug into his flapping arms. He cursed himself and all, but the simple thing that he didn't realize was that he had been swimming upstream all the while. His destiny was the other way round. He was a human after all, swimming against the current be better left to salmon of the stream. And with this realization he set out again, now in the right direction, to test himself once more...