The magus bored the fool to tears,
With all his books and skill,
The fool liked time with his own peers,
Knowledge made him ill.

He realized the dog was gone,
But didn’t really care,
In the glen, he saw a fawn,
And headed over there.

Along the path, the light grew dim,
The deer bounded away,
A woman sat within the glen,
And twilight banished day.

She sat upon a simple bench,
Her robes a pale blue.
So different from a common wench.
That much the fool knew.

“Why are you here?” the woman said,
Her face almost a mask,
“Should you not be home in bed,
Or have you come to ask?”

The fool frowned. “Ask what?” said he,
“There’s naught I need to know,”
The woman smiled. “If you can’t see,
The you shall have to go -

“My secrets are for other folk,
Who search for truth within,
And when you, too, cast off your yoke,
Come visit me again.”

She picked the scroll up in her hands
And unrolled it some more,
T’was then the fool noticed the lands
Had changed into a door.

Two columns rose beside her seat,
One black, the other white,
The fool turned and did retreat,
From the unnerving sight.

“You can keep your secrets, then,”
The fool called as he ran,
“If our paths never cross again,
“I’ll be a lucky man.”