He wandered down the street one day,

From whence he came I cannot say,

Grey with age and weary trodden,

An old, old man, that time had forgotten.

And I so young, remembered him so,

Because he just stopped, and no longer did go.

But surveyed with care, earnest and slow,

This place, this street, this lamp light’s glow.

And as I looked more closely,

I noticed his stark blue eyes,

Bluer than the clearest days,

Bluer than the skies.

Dressed in rags and slumber gear,

On the coldest day of the year,

He shuffled around on the spot,

And blew on his fingers to keep them hot.

He ducked and weaved,

And jumped about,

With age well kept,

With vigour and stout.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

And all this, I spied upstairs,

And thought, that no one really cares,

An old, old man, so much alone,

In a world that forgets,

When you are far from home.

And then he looked right up to me,

And I in turn, did no one else see,

A meeting, a cross road, a step in time,

The powers to be, or simply rhyme?

I waved at him and smiled,

And he in turn replied,

And with good cheer,

I called him near,

Towards my home’s good fire.

I met him at my doorway,

In such a peculiar way,

The air so grim,

With winter’s whim,

And star dusts’ halo spray.

And then he spoke,

It was to note,

A voice as rich as thunder,

That trapped upon a hillside range,

Fell and rolled with wonder.

I asked his name,

And he in shame,

Thought better,

And sought to wander.

But quick as a wink,

I held him a drink,

And begged,

His sense of hunger.

I grabbed his arm,

I meant no harm,

And offered him the room,

Without delay, I let this play,

And then his voice I knew.

He looked around,

With such profound,

It gave me cause to wonder,

Had he before, been at my door,

Or was it in dreams and slumber.

His name, his name,

I knew his name,

I knew not where,

From whence forth, it came.

And as I spoke,

He smiled at me,

And then it came all to be,

This time, this place, this century.

‘I said I’d meet you here again,

Upon this road, and in this den,

An old, old man as before,

Seeking you to fill his chore.’

‘It cannot be, I am not right,

The words you say give me fright,

‘Tis your name I called in hast,

But uttered I in earnest chaste.’

‘Neigh’, said he,

‘This has to be.’

‘For you know I,’

‘And I know thee.’

‘This night in mist, and cold, cold dread,’

‘I woke the beast, that was long dead,’

‘And laughed at him that he be meek,’

‘For I, the elixir of life did seek.’

‘And found I did,’

‘The secret kept,’

‘That long in dreams,’

‘Cursed I slept.’

‘’tis to you again,’

‘As before,’

‘Who opened screen,’

‘With love evermore.’

‘The alchemist, and sword of life,’

‘The years betwixt, those years of strife,’

‘The dreams, the chalice, all begotten,’

‘Only you, had not them forgotten.’

‘Behold again, I am he,’

‘Your friend, your tutor,’

‘Your future to be,’

‘Merlin, the necromancer.