He was an old man who had reached a plateau
of peace, and of contentment,
both on the personal
and spiritual level.
He had, in his youth, travelled far and frequently,
observing diverse and different
social mores and customs.
He sought the arcane, and thrived on the esoteric,
seeking both through books and conversations
with sages and scholars,
soldiers and fools.
He learned from youthful mistakes,
incorporating the lessons into his life.
He believed in teaching his children through example,
through logical conclusion and experience,
discounting fairy tales and folk myths,
popular culture and politics,
as simply interesting stories,
and deviations from
the Quest for Truth.
He explored his inner solitudes,
and contemplated the unknown vastness,
the unknowable mysteries
of Being:
of how There goes on forever,
and how it is that Now
is eternal.
He understood the concept
of probability,
of multiple realities,
and how quantum theory
opened doors of thought
that should change human condition.
He held the magic,
this old man,
that could lift our tragic lives
to a level of contentment
and understanding
unimagined.
He held the wisdom
to save untold suffering
and hardship,
to dispel superstition
and prejudice:
the keys to a new Renaissance of Man.
He spoke, and those listening
heard not the wisdom nor the magic,
but saw an old man with weakened voice
and tired eyes,
and laughed at his words,
calling him silly and feeble.
So the world went its way
of pain,
and of stumbling
towards the unknown,
blind and unprepared,
while the old man
meditated,
and thought,
and was content
forever.
