The Hermit

A staff and lantern he did hold,

To show the way, to shelter from cold.

Travelling secret corners of the earth,

Their mysteries revealed despite his mirth.

I lost him, he did not grow old.


He walked a lonely path,

Eternal autumn, an aftermath.

Of a life not yet begun,

He was a hero, for me unsung.

My way and his, our joy and wrath


The darkness illuminated by his light,

With him my life did feel alright.

His gentle, understated love,

A hidden sign, of peace, a dove.

Extinguished in the night

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