Wanderer and The Temple

Wanderer

leaving the                                                       city

                                                                              lover

                                                                              blight

he dons the mail and leather

he knows not what he seeks

but it isn't                                                          here

shield and sheathe clang with each step

but that is not why the forest knows of his coming

the road is lonely

save for a limping dog endlessly licking

the gloved fingers

sounds both eerie and charming from an unknown instrument

hang in the air

never falling

never fa d  i   n    g

 

now truly silent

he gazes up and sees

The Temple

the odd stone stands

taller than trees

it protrudes from the young forest

an old mecca but smooth

under northern lights

the crescent moon shines on

rooftop snow

but the woods are clear and warm

on the stainless steel stone face

is a symbol

a triangle made of three triangles

       blue            yellow

                red

beneath the sacred marker

light and fog seep out of the

  void

both illuminating and obscuring

the broken and overgrown p

                                                         a

                                                      t

                                                        h

                                         on which the

                                      Wanderer walks