A little boy like you and me,
once hid away inside a tree,
no one knew where to look
so closed was he inside this nook.
Soon his friends ran away,
sure he'd gone elsewhere to play,
while he was lost to deep dream's spill
magic stole away his will.
Ancient tales wound their way
and left him lost amidst the fray.
New knowledge seeped into his mind,
wisdom sent through dream and sign
to turn the fate of all mankind.
Yet fairies sang him lullabies
and he saw magical images rise
behind the lids of sleepy eyes.
Soon roots took hold, and began to climb
and the little lad sank into slime
but warm it was and fragrant too
a **** of sorts where this child grew.
Creatures in the forest know
through this sap strong magic flows.
He grew bark and limbs so strong,
his arms waved, his truck grew long.
On this hilltop ever steeper,
we find the man called the Keeper.
For keeper he is of secrets so old
that wisemen beg to be so bold,
as to ask advice and beg to see,
this ancient being in a tree.
His roots spread out thoughout the land
across oceans, field, and barren sand.
An oracle, is what he's called
and people come, all enthralled,
to visit with this wizened tree,
or man, or ent, perhaps all three.
As for the child, just accept,
that he grew wise without regret.
So be advised, we all grow up
old dogs too were little pups.
A bard with beard, perhaps unsung
stretches limbs to golden sun.
He is patient and stable, on an even keel,
as he guards the gate to all that's surreal.
If you visit with him, don't be afraid,
his voice is booming his eyes are grave.
but deep inside his laughter rises
The Keeper is filled with joy and surprises.