For Thomas

October 14, 2010

It was nearly a full moon that night
a figure slowly creeps from the shadows,
his breath adding to the twilight fog
only a glimmer of his face could be seen
the Alchemist couldn’t help but smile
he knew, as he silently crossed the field
towards what was left of the church
that greater things, greater truths,
were just waiting to be found
there, in the ruins, stood a sycamore
just a sapling now, it had taken
sanctuary like so many others
within the dusty walls of the sacristy
it would be the beginning and end
for one talented soul to discover
as he buried the chest near the
base of the tree, he touched its bark,
felt the warmth left over from sunset
his final word as he mounted his steed
was, with a glance at the sky: “Maktub”



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