After much wandering, the Monkey King decided the egg did not belong to him. Carrying it carefully, he searched until he found a nest cradled in the crook of a tree. Gently, he set the egg back where it belonged and hid himself in the branches to watch.
Not long after, the mother bird returned. She fluttered down, settled on the nest, and ruffled her feathers with quiet contentment. Monkey smiled. Something in his heart told him he had done the right thing.
Days turned into weeks, and Monkey came back again and again. He watched the mother warming the egg, the father bringing food, the way the two worked together without quarrel or complaint. Monkey was amazed at their devotion.
Then came the day the egg cracked. A tiny chick stumbled into the world, blind and fragile, Monkey’s heart softened. “So this,” he thought, “is how beginnings look.”
He invited Buddha and Jesus to see.
When the chick begged for food, beak wide open, Buddha said:
“See how it trusts completely? Life begins with trust without it, no creature survives.”
When the parents tirelessly fed the little one, Jesus said:
“See how they give without asking in return? Love is the nourishment of the world.”
He saw it stand on unsteady legs, test its wings, then finally leap into the air.
Buddha told him: “Every stage is sacred. Do not rush to the flight honor the stillness, the struggle, the waiting. That is where wisdom is born.”
Jesus added: “And when it does take flight, it does not leave the nest behind in hatred. It carries the memory of love with it. That is how we grow without forgetting.”
Monkey thought long about this. He had wanted to know where the first egg came from, but now he saw that the egg was not only about beginnings it was about patience, trust, love, and the courage to step into the unknown.
When the young bird soared into the sky, Monkey clapped his hands and laughed aloud.
Bhudda smiled, for Monkey had cracked open more than just an egg. He had cracked open a truth.
Inside the empty shell an image unfolded before Monkeys eyes, a living tapestry of Earth’s affairs, like the night sky woven with human choices, greed, and longing.
He saw the lessons of old, like Melchizedek, walking through his lands, taking only a tenth a symbol of balance, of conscious gratitude. “That’s how it was meant to be,” Monkey King muttered to himself.
The patterns twisted time distorted and humanity in the future gave ten percent to the church, twenty, forty, sometimes sixty percent to the government, and still more in hidden taxes, fees, and corporate markups. The poor bore the weight. The rich took their cut first and demanded it from those who could not afford it.
The Monkey King’s golden eyes narrowed. On the screen, a group of people was being asked to pay trillions in damages for simply recognizing a free state a grotesque inversion of justice. His heart, a small white hole of light, pulsed with dismay. Even Jesus, Buddha, and Anubis appeared beside him on the cloud, shaking their heads in silent sorrow. “This is not stewardship,” Jesus whispered. “This is exploitation,” Buddha murmured.
And yet, Monkey King knew. He remembered the egg he had once returned to its nest, the patience required to watch life unfold. “Even in this chaos,” he said, “there is the seed of balance. There is the lesson of awareness.” acts of kindness, courage, and truth glimmered like stars against the night of human greed.
He laughed “Ah, mortals,” he said, “you give and take, build and destroy, yet forget that the heart knows the truth. No tithes, no taxes, no courts can touch what is pure in spirit.”
And so he watched, and waited, not as a judge, but as a guardian, knowing that those who aligned with love, courage, and balance even in the smallest acts, were the ones who would tip the scales. The world had gone mad, yes, but heaven’s eye and influence was patient.
From his cloud, the Monkey King whispered to the Earth:
Remember the egg. Watch it hatch. 🐣