Details entail in the telling tale
of my meeting with him-time sojourner.
Having walked the un-paltry path experience paved,
newer descents has term'd him a pariah.
Cloaked in age,reckon'd old,
wrinkle'd face like scribbled scrolls.
Scanty guards at his bossom gate,
his moisture'd tongue hinds at every gape.
His members now work the grinding mill slower.
Bald head with adjure'd hairs,
bowing at wisdom's antique sequia.
Arch'd back and hinges hinder'd.
Vision seems to him far,that are near.
In awe,i gawp at nature's familiar wonder,
the rigour-less figure with scaly skin
sitting mild with unseem'd smile and skew'd chin.
The few words,one or two that he utter'd,
make folds of meaning and mildew'd thoughts.
On them i mull my muse in manner rather mulish,
labouring to prove the sacred sachet of sagely sallies.
"Keep me sane old soul".
'I have only come to borrow of your night fires,
to keep us warm-(me and my folks).
But you have cover'd me with your thoughts like surplice,
and have held me here tamp'd by words.'
'I have only request'd a little oil for my lamp,
but my mind you maim'd by abtruse sayings.'
As i turn'd to find the exit,
toiling with knott'd puzzles in my sacrum.
He again drew near to accost me this three;
-"drink not eagerly from an elder's cup,
unless you are prepare'd to eat from one yet deeper.
-Never retort the ancient
it utter once,multitude thoughts.
-And halt not the old soul,
it may as well be your inner sage".
Though my mind be maim'd,clotter'd and weak
by the depths his wisdom hold.
I could only mutter this one request.
'sir,can i come back?'
