Toting the mysterious bundle and sporting a sore back I drag my feet up the last few steps, expended of vigour I almost couldn't resist prematurely looking through the sack Remembering the words from the wise old seer
Grimacing I walk a slow gait to get to the table Set the bundle down and relieve my weight onto a chair Parched throat but wait longer I am unable Curiosity takes charge and into the gift I will tear
Blood is pumping along with an increasing heart rate Fingers scrambling clumsily over the strings that bind Nails digging frantically into this package bearing my fate Gnawing thoughts of uncertainty flooding my mind
At last my fingers win the battle that lasted The final string has fallen... Obstinate knots all undone I pick the cloth by the edges to have it unfolded The contents inside reach out like rays of the sun
Corners of the cloth open up like a fully bloomed blossom Exposing the treasure that lay solemn and quiet inside Common objects we'd normally perceive as random Petty things now important as they attempt to guide
I pick up the first and notice an engraving on it's stem Between my fingers - an unassuming feathered quill Barely legible, such little space the words do cram "Here is your sword... Draw blood and let spill"
More riddles, I sought to examine the next A flat bottomed vial filled with jet black ink On it is a label with scrawling of time worn text "Here is your blood; let flow what you think"
Lastly, lay bound up sheets of yellow stained parchment They reek of age-old herbs; intoxicating slightly At the top of the first, a note scribbled not so recent "Within these pages, you must bleed to find Sanctuary"
Staring down at the objects laid in front of me In hopes of discovering something I should miss Then finally it struck me, so plain to see I'm using the instruments now, writing to find release...
See "Dear Mystic" See "Dear Seeker" See "Sanctuary"