The Wanderer

Across the river cloaked in brown

tall stature old and gray.

A light does shine upon his face

a traveler on his way.

The trees do glow a vivid green

and reflect upon his presence

the wise old man with staff in hand

seeks his way to heaven.

Let not be told the tales that passed

for the future is so dim

His mind acute and sense sharp

to what many may seem grim.

Over the pebbles water flows

and guides the way down stream

He follows where the forces guide

while the warm air he calmly breathes.

Two men approach and look across

blades upon the sides.

They seeks the devil walking near

with vengeance on their minds.

One man raises his sights

to look across the bay.

The other follows swiftly

as they swarm upon their pray.

As trampling hooves gallop forth

across the shallow flow

the gray old man walks calmly

moving with the wind's blow.

As surely he should be alarmed

shortly trampled underfoot

Instead he turns to face them

with a calm and charming look.

His staff is raised and shines

and the hills do tremble forth.

The branches fall asunder

knocking the riders off.

They fall feet from the sorcerer

who looks upon their plight

while the horses quickly calm

and prance to his side.

The kings they beg for mercy

as they came to find a man

who's said to've caused a plunder

and cursed their torched land.

He gave a gaze and smoked his wooden pipe

with a twinkle in his eye.

He said to return to their land

and all will be revitalized.

The hill then swarmed a warm breeze

and carried him away

before the men could thank him

he'd gone upon his way.

Be not quick to judge

the strangers and the odd

they may seem to be demons

when really sent by gods.