Today's poem (a weird one)

When the Moon falters
He would consider himself afraid
Dancing through meadows
and imploring the Gods to aid him
as he plucks herbs,
selects shoots,
upending roots and
replenishing potions
Gathering the goodness
of the Eternal Earth
for kings and compatriots
to heal with

When the wind scuttles
He calls himself a charlatan
Proven beyond power
to be powerless
Pretending to be other
and sending his wares to the tower
Hoping for angel's hands
to guide him,
as all hopes lay in his hands

When the Great One revives,
by chance,
He finds himself exalted.
and the merry fiction continues...

RC 21-2-26