He knew not how long he’d travelled this road
For it seemed he’d been walking all his life
Since The Old One had come to his father’s encampment.
So many, many long years ago he’d now lost track
The Old One had foreseen that great suffering would come
All in the villages would die, save one, The Chosen Son.
As night followed day, one by one, people began to die
The Old One, an apothecary, did all he could to help
But no one could hold back the tide of bubonic plague.
Yet The Chosen Son was spared, just he alone
And so, with heavy heart, after burying his parents
Then later his beloved sister Maya, he left.
He never looked back, what was there to see
The villages were now all but dead, and fires were set
In tears he stumbled away, still a child.
And yet with all that he had seen he was almost a man
He grew as he walked, learning how to hunt for food
He gained the skills of an archer for he needed meat to live.
And on he walked, quickly finding ways to defending himself
How to make his own tunics and gaskins and boots
He resisted the wearing of a cod piece as silly.
Thought he that they were the things of fops and dandies
He only wore what was needed to keep him warm
And he had a good cape for the purpose, and for sleeping.
He hired out his skills with the bow to farmers
To rid them of the marauding boars and wolves
Soon his reputation began to spread far and wide.
Till one day he was called upon to compete for gold.
Winning with ease his standing grew ever more
And more contesting and winning became the norm.
He never knew or understood why he was The Chosen Son
Barely remembering his village and The Old One
All things had become entangled in the sands of time.
Till finally he couldn’t even remember his name
As he fell by the roadside so tired and ill
He moved not a muscle, lying perfectly still.
But all was to change, a wanderer chanced by
Who touched his cold frame and his spirit soared high
Now The Wanderer is He and will walk as He did
Keeping a watch on His flock as He’s bid.
For never will He die, The Chosen Son
He’ll walk with us always, with everyone.
©Joe Wilson – The Chosen Son…2015