I am the path, but not the Shrine.
The way, but not the end.
Friend, but not lover, another fills that role,
and in my soul I know
I am the light, but not the page.

Perhaps, in times, the river,
and sometimes the falls,
but when the lakeside calls
the water is no longer of me.
For that is not the role I fill.

Not understudy, but transitional player,
given to the range and skills granted
in this enchanted, if graceless age.
The one you may even call on
when he wears your dagger, deep.

And you may not understand, or care,
the essence of my part in this,
the dance of love and life.
But that is why you cannot stay,
and I must, in the second act, away.


copyright William F. DeVault (wfdv)