A young monk travelled far
Through many lands' borders
In pilgrimage to another monastery
To help the brethren of his order
He trekked many days and in dawn's light
And in the fog of this twilight
He began down a beaten trail
Where he met an old monk
As if from Heaven fell
I too have travelled far
Under guidance of this early morning star
None other have I seen
Than you my brother so virtuous and clean
And in those morning hours
The two debated God's mysteries and powers
The old monk smote his open hand with his fist
How can we truly know that God exists?
The younger retorted the elder's curse
Giving evidence in recited scriptural verse
The invisible things of Him are clearly seen
Being understood by the things that are made
But my son things that are made
Perish in time as each day must surely fade
The young monk used verse as a humble lever
I have learned that all works that God has made
Continue forever
The elder answered partly in the Word
Forever as many things cannot be understood
The things that are in Heaven, who shall search out?
The more purified the intellect
More clearly does it perceive intelligible truths of immaterial subject
God gives us knowledge but sorrow and vexation lie at its edge
The old monk spoke of a Prince
That had been cast away
In darkness and damnation
For His love
He dared to say
Eloquently he spoke of lament and loss
But fire broiled beneath his breath
As his love was betrayed
Cast away and lost
The younger knew the elder without sight of his face
Asking in thought
Why hast thou placed me in his presence and denied me audience of Your Grace?
He raised his eyes
Hidden under his cowl
Which shone like moons
To which winter wolves howl
He rose his left hand
And in the air scribed
A luminous star
Turned on its side pointed five
I can show you secrets of His knowledge and power
That He guards like gold
Left idle in a tower
And the young monk in vain
Tried to blind his eyes
To the thrall of evil
In a righteous guise
The old monk began to speak in a language unknown
Yet the evil translated
Into the mind's own
The old monk encanted an arcane spell
In His bidding you stand to serve me well
You must seek out a boar
King of the swine
With a heart as black as his shade
Like a blood wine
Bind him up
Hoof over head
As St. Peter he must hang dead
When the morrow's moon runs red
Shall seven pass before the carcass is fed
The egg is the symbol of the soul
Shall pass thrice over the carcass whole
Slowly shalt thou begin the chant
Legion, rise to make writhe and rant
Crack the egg into an earthen bowl
Which shall run black to feed his soul
Crack the seventh egg under the last moons flood
Which shall run red to give life's blood
Sever the swine and make him free
Where he shall feed and do bidding for thee
The old monk vanished into a murder of crows
Releasing the young monk from evil's throes
The young monk that had walked into the woods that night
Had his heart turn old and his hair turn white
His blood coursed slowly in the veins flow
He turned feeble in moments
As his age did grow
How his time mirrored the forked road travels
His path lay before him
Its mystery unraveled
In seven midnights from this mourn
He would die in God's graces
Or be saved in Satan’s horns
Alas, the old monk reached the abbot's door
He was granted no quarter till morning
And not a moment before
We’ve awaited a young monk's arrival this dawn
But with this strange air
We must heed Evil's pawns
Have you my eldest brother
Seen any other of your order?
The old monk was too weak to speak
His life's breath had drawn shorter
He was retired to a cell
Where he wrote of Heaven's glories
And the sorrows of hell
He wrote until his fingers bled
Denying water or being fed
He wrote that whole day
And all of the next
Denying any sustenance
Or peace or rest
He wrote one more day
And still another
Denying even the company
Of his brothers
He wrote the fifth day
And the sixth
As his life faded
With no cure for his soul’s sick
At midnight of the sixth day
He stopped his scroll
To meditate and pray
He sought solace
In the Lords peace
And passed into His Kingdom
As the seventh day ceased
The brethren left his cell in order
Walling it in with some stone and mortar
The brethren were left puzzled indeed
By the elder brother and his mortal deed
Why this brother whom they did not know
Should have his grave surrounded
Before a multitude of crows.
-- Rodney Lee is an LTL driver living in Waco Texas.