after history (13-15)

As a child he often found himself returning lost fragments to their owners unaware of how he had come by them or their significance. This marked him out: he learnt to be more cautious as he followed the night trails and who he shared his findings with upon his return. But he could still be careless with the sensibilities of others, carried away as he was with the thrill of the hunt, the manic ecstasy of collecting. These days more often than not he prays to his desert god for the strength to refrain from doing anything which bruises or saddens the soul. “Nothing acquired justifies a harmed soul,” he says, his eyes deep iridescent pools reflecting otherwise skies.
One night out stalking a particular moonlit path seeking the bees and being led by them to the voice of an energy a force for good who could
if beseeched with respectful speech inform me
of the plant source needed to shield me from the pernicious influence the demon if you will which was depleting me while I slept leading to an awakening each day drained and enervated
a half-living invalid who could hardly raise himself up from his bed and walk. Will it work? That I wonder.
Golden Valley 2
On his way back one time just before morning broke, he happened upon a blue-grey lake,
a space of mysterious depths.  He knew as he passed it, as briefly as that passing was, that
he would happily travel upon it in a craft but
not for anything would he venture beneath.
Golden Valley 1
al May 2018