I know him to be a child of shadow. His will parts the veil between the mortal world and that of misty dreams. His eyes seduce me to question everything I’ve ever learned. I speak to the trees and never pass herb or flower, without quizzing myself as to its name. Each stone I step upon has a history beneath it, and there it has lain in wait for countless moons, holding its secret. My willingness to ask in silent contemplation, brings answers to light and therefore truth. Or is it not but magic?

He speaks to me of beauty, bathing my mind in its perfection. He speaks and becomes a body of water that flows with and through me. He smiles until my face shimmers with rays of the golden sun. But for all this,
I see his skill with darkness and chaos. He could neither say he was man or immortal. Magic is like air to him and I beg for more of the wisdom he might impart.

He teaches me to feel time in its movement, the pulsing of stars, the peaceful lapping of waves against smooth sand shores of my own mind. He makes me question how well I know season, element, earth or my own heart. The affairs of man have long since faded in this place of fantasy and have no dominion. I drift, further and further into him. Every ounce of darkness must have equal measure of light.

Merlin, you say when I harness this understanding, I shall know balance in all things. I feel whole, quenched and serene in the arms of the moon and its song. But wait...the veil now seams itself together and the familiar sounds of the life I knew, returns. Not a dream, I reason. Not a dream! If so, then I have dreamed many lifetimes in a single night. But it was so...