LXI. The Honey Sacrifice

—And again passed moons and years over Zarathustra’s soul, and he heeded it not; his hair, however, became white. One day when he sat on a stone in front of his cave, and gazed calmly into the distance—one there gazeth…

The animals ask whether he looks out for happiness. He says he strives for his work, and that his happiness is heavy like pitch. He then takes it back: he is ripening like a fruit, with honey in his veins. He decides to climb a high mountain and make a honey sacrifice.

When Zarathustra, however, was aloft on the summit, he sent his animals home that had accompanied him, and found that he was now alone:—then he laughed from the bottom of his heart, looked around him, and spake thus:…

Alone, he laughs and admits that the 'honey sacrifice' was only a ruse. The honey is really bait, and the world is a rich sea full of wonders.

Especially the human world, the human sea:—towards IT do I now throw out my golden angle-rod and say: Open up, thou human abyss! Open up, and throw unto me thy fish and shining crabs! With my best bait shall I allure to…

He casts his golden angle-rod into the human sea. He wants to lure the strangest, motleyest men up to his height with hidden hooks. He describes himself as a drawer and trainer.

“Become what thou art!”

He recalls the counsel he once gave himself.

Thus may men now come UP to me; for as yet do I await the signs that it is time for my down-going; as yet do I not myself go down, as I must do, amongst men. Therefore do I here wait, crafty and scornful upon high…

He awaits the sign for his going down. He is not impatient and has unlearnt patience, because he no longer suffers. He is glad his fate gives him time and is not like the wrath-snorting preachers who shout down into the valleys.

What must one day come and may not pass by? Our great Hazar, that is to say, our great, remote human-kingdom, the Zarathustra-kingdom of a thousand years— How remote may such “remoteness” be? What doth it concern me?…

What must come is the great Hazar, the Zarathustra-kingdom of a thousand years. He stands secure on the hard primary rock, where all the winds ask Where, Whence and Whither.

Here laugh, laugh, my hearty, healthy wickedness! From high mountains cast down thy glittering scorn-laughter! Allure for me with thy glittering the finest human fish! And whatever belongeth unto ME in all seas, my…

He urges his laughter, his hook and his honey to bring up what is his from the seas. He looks out over many seas and dawning human futures, under a rosy stillness.