Who exists in all times, on all planes
Feels the pulse of wing and wind as geese migrate on their northern southern circuit
Resides in the depths of atlantic trenches where fish swim bone blind and cold
But the dark is not dark to him and the cold current ranges round him warm like a song
He is the alchemist in whose being all extremes reconcile
Past, future, all points east and west become in his hand brothers, sisters, lead from gold
He is the contest
And the prize
The conquest and peace
The pacifist, who weaponless, wages war and wins
The warrior, who armed, lays down his sword and dies.
He is the youth so pure in wisdom his hair bleaches itself white as a sign for all the foolish to see
So ancient his footsteps can only be measured in the lifespan of the stone upon which he walked.