I have a wand now;
I have it for my service,
For my silence,
For my skill at emptiness.

I wave my wand as he did, and I await!
I wave my wand as he did,
And yet the magic doesn’t come
As I was told it would.

My wand was his once,
His that he made magic with.
The magic that he made before he passed that is,
The magic that I should have now for my service.

Oh how I wished that magic were mine;
So much that I served to get it when he passed.
And though I wave it as he did, the magic doesn’t come,
Forever and a day the magic doesn’t come.

And so I sit, or stand, or stray a little here and there;
But never to leave, or go to my peace – and wave my wand
That I so dearly craved though the magic never comes
As I was told it would, and dwell forever upon my deed.

Fingertips – palm.
Pressure for a moment.
Ever so slight, the image remains;
Caught, lightly, in eternity’s web for the quiet to perceive.

Lonely hearts wondering,
Where is my life?
Lonely hearts wandering,
Strife to strife, leaving behind their shadowed image play,
A fading corridor of time’s distant echo for the quiet to perceive.

Day to day – changeless, except to age.
Well worn paths so much the same, unnoticed
In their differings, trod only for their questioning
Presence; the answers unseen for the clatter of the search,
A fading corridor of time’s distant echo for the quiet to perceive.

Fingertips – palm.
Pressure for a moment.
Ever so slight the image remains,
A fading corridor of time’s distant echo for the quiet to perceive.

Look thru your finest hour, at all the rest; at now, thru your finest moment.
Look around you at the distance between you, and what you turn away from …you will find them in the midst; in the midst of your reasons why not, in the midst of your excuses.
Remember how you felt at your finest hour, who you felt you were in your finest moment – go there, and look around you at the distance between you, and what you turn away from …you will find them in the midst; in the midst of your reasons why not, in the midst of your excuses.
Look thru your finest hour, at all the hours gone by, at all the chances missed…and let go!

The open sea is an odd and peculiar place on a full moon’s windless night. The silver moonlight, the gray decks and implements, the long night hours of the midnight watch, all conspire to fool the eye or perhaps entice the imagination. Shimmering scenes prophetic, suggesting varied sinister ways and means of demise, dance silently about the rigs, ropes, and ladders, and languish a moment at dawn’s first breaking only to become rust and bolt, winch and cable, at the first sea bird’s cry.

   
Chatelain led the way – three sailors followed; and Jadeland looked, now and again, over his shoulder. The passageway was damp and lit by what little light drifted down from above. The floor was slimy and the walls were so close together that the water on them soaked the climbers clothes. They climbed up because there was nowhere else to go; Chatelain choose which branch in the tunnel to take by which one offered the most light, and Jadeland said nothing.
They lost track of time as they scrabbled upward from tunnel to tunnel, and always the dim light shone a little brighter as they went. They sailors climbed and, what with the wet clothes dampening their spirits, muttered only occasionally to themselves as the light grew, unsure what lay ahead. Jadeland alone was silent; his step sure and steady as he trailed the group.
Chatelain stepped first into the wide chamber, its ceiling vaulting nearly out of the lights reach, hollowed out of the mountains top. “It would never have mattered” said one the sailors. “No, it would not,” said Chatelain, the surrounding walls of the chamber was honeycombed with doorways of varying sizes around its entire circumference, “all paths behind lead here!”
The glow from the floor at the center of the chamber flashed as Jadeland pushed past the group and, tossing back his hood, strode out across the floor of the chamber toward its center. A voice began to murmur a chant, unintelligible at first, but becoming clearing with each repetition. The voice was feminine, and firm; the words cryptic:

Rushed, hush … walls ? – speak no secrets!

The world seeks attention; all in it seeks the same – all in it seek me and perish often with success.

What conspiracy draws the dazzled seekers?, what need for thier demise?

Walls?… speak no secrets!; impart to me no hushed compromise. In darkness moves the dark intent, in silence the silent.

The light flared for a moment bright enough to blind the travelers; Jadeland stopped and shaded his eyes, as did the rest of the party. When they could see again a sphere of light floated above the floor in the center of the room and all had gone silent.
Jadeland approached the sphere slowly, still shading his eyes, “you are the Oracle,” he said. No answer came to the question in his voice, as he closer and waved his spread fingers thru the light. “Are you here?” he asked. “I am,” came the quiet answer, “for the moment.” “And why can I not grasp and hold you here?â€? Jadeland said to the sphere, as he walked thru its light in the center of the chamber, waving his spread fingers thru the light. “Because I am also elsewhere,” the Oracle proclaimed, “as a suit of shining armor, a princess’s veil, inhabited by naught but questions of absence; I am both one – and many, and you will hear me!â€?
Jadeland stepped back from the light with crossed arms; chin jutting out at the command in the Oracle’s voice. “This is not your place and I will not speak to you here” said the Oracle. “I wish an answer to my question” he said. “You have asked your question many times; and many times you have been answered” said the Oracle. ‘What I have been given are not answers, only riddles!” he said. “Would you have more riddles then?“said the Oracle. “No,” said Jadeland; the defeat in his voice conveyed many defeats before. “You must leave,” said the Oracle, “this is not your place and I will not speak to you here.”
“The way is shut behind us” said Chatelain who had moved up behind Jadeland. Jadeland started at the closeness of the voice and said, “I am not leaving without an answer!” “Then I have another riddle for you” said the Oracle, as all went black in the chamber. “Left all roads lead here: right all roads lead there,
many doors are one: one many.” The blackness was utter and none dared move because of it. “The way is shut behind us” said Chatelain again. Jadeland`s voice echoed wistfully in the chamber; giving it shape and size enough to relieve the close and oppressive blackness. “What is your name oracle and have we met before?” “I am Ja Chani,” came the whispered reply,“and I am also the one who sent you here.” “Then you are also the one who appeared in the Councils chamber,” said Jadeland. “I am Ja Chani,” she replied, “we are One.” “Did you bring me here to toy with me Ja Chani?” said Jadeland.
In the silence that followed the air began to stir and the first inklings of light began to show around the edges of the chamber. The chant began quietly at first, but with each round it became more strident.

Straw men, stick men, wise men – fools;
round – round – goes the seer`s dust,
round – round – go the fools!

The whirling sand stung their eyes as the chant grew louder and the light grew brighter. The sailors started muttering amongst themselves as the sand whirled and the chanting became louder. Chatelain shouted at Jadeland, but his words were lost in the torrent of sand and the ever brightening light. The roof of the chamber could not be seen, but the fringes of the surround with its many doors could, and Chatelain started for the door they had come through. Jadeland simply stood at the chambers center and watched the swirling sand.

Straw men, stick men, wise men – fools;
round – round – goes the seer`s dust,
round – round – go the fools!

The chanting began to slow and the sand began to settle. The light continued to grow, and revealed a white polished circle on the center of the chamber’s floor, as the last wisps of wind and sand drifted away into silence. What was left behind was a map in miniature in the center of the circle. The firth could be seen, and the coastline was familiar. The map extended inland describing a river canyon on the other side of the mountain from the firth. Down the canyons center ran a river , and in the river were shards of stone, all in detailed relief, inscribed in the sand. Chatelain and his fellows came up behind Jadeland as he stood looking down at the map.
“What is this oracle?” said Jadeland. A stir of wind moved about the map; a whirlwind of minute dimension brushed its surface, and left behind a miniature caricature of a waterfall; sand flowing over its edge and into a sand etched lake with small waves rippling over its surface. “Here,” said the oracle: a brief whirlwind parting the falls to show the cave behind it, “You will find your answer, now you must leave.” “The way is shut behind us,” said Chatelain. “You must leave!” said the oracle,” Observe!” The entire chamber dome began to rotate around the chamber floor. The rotation was barely noticeable, but the rumble the mountain moving could not be mistaken; it had moved no more than six or eight feet when all fell silent again.
“As all doors lead here when you entered, now all doors lead there when you leave,” said the Oracle; a stir in the air showed a whirl at the back of the mountain away from the firth. “Do not try to go back, the guardians will kill you if you do. Go now, it matters not which way you choose, all paths lead to the door out.”

Straw men, stick men, wise men – fools;
round – round – goes the seer`s dust,
round – round – go the fools!

The chanting began again, slowly and quietly, as a wind whisked all remnants of the map back into the air. The party made for the outskirts of the chamber as the wind and sand increased, and the chanting became louder. The wind stopped, the sand settled, and the chanting drifted into silence, as they stepped into an open door and started down the passage way beyond.