The Light the lantern was
back
on fire blinkering
it cast no shadows
it didnt illuminate the Hermit
he watched it for hours through glass
searching it
and around it for the slightest shift an alteration of brilliance a flicker of fabric or bone
button or glint
off the forged talisman he knew the gnarled Hermit to wear
the Hermit wasnt clandestine or
prone to stealth His robe was long and
heavy
and dragged the earth like clumsy rake tines
His
step was measured but also heavy
he took the glass from his eyes
and rubbed them furiously
inside his head their vision sparkled
white stakes crackle and crimson stars
finding one another they cloistered
and collapsed in on
themselves
then
clambered awkwardly and blindly in their sudden dark
until
a spark caught
and revivified they
danced again
he slaked his thirst with cold
wellwater from a ladle held in a wooden bucket he had
drawn before bringing the
glass to his eyes
he dipped his wrists in it
his
heart
quickened
then he filled his hands cupping the water and splashed it on his face and beard and
worked it through his curling mane
he didnt believe the Hermit was
dead
only
banished
and awaiting the
right time to emerge again
as He had
before
not knowing Time He didnt know patience
and
had He its concept or known the darkness He stayed in
he wasnt
sure
that He wouldnt be restless or
angered
He was many things but many of those things wouldnt have been
desirable or deemed
qualities
he returned the glass to his
eyes with an uptake of a breath that wandered out of his
mouth a reluctant sigh
a jettison of nerves exhaustion
and relentless willfulness
he understood Time
he knew patience
he knew He knew who pushed him
into the fire and Light and lantern
Time was a limp
matter a snail crawling over the edge
of a razor blade
senseless of everything else
except
where it was going
and on its nameless heels
stalked
the Hermit
2318, Friday,
18 7. 14
