My teacher has always been blind…

My teacher has always been blind

When seen in my dreams,

And he walks with ivory cane

Leading the way through mist and trees.

He speaks of old mirrors

And infinite libraries;

He collects small stones

While I transcribe his memories.

His last instruction to me

Is to wander through his maze,

In search of red adam,

The one who he first named.

Within these circular ruins

I find I am not alone.

The god of fire smiles upon me

And grants the gift of tongues.