Old and resting weary bones in the shade
The sage sits and smiles softly
At the passerby
Man or Woman?
There is no hint from the weathered face
Or the knarled hands
The cloak and robes are dusty and travelworn
And the staff as smooth and straight
As once the sage was
Like the boy who runs to ask for a story
�Wise you are and wise you will be,
To ask of others what you also ask me.
You can learn much from the wisdom of others, �tis true,
But the only true wisdom comes from you.
You take these stories and place them in your heart,
And learn from them what they would impart.
Twilight�s upon me and soon I�ll be done,
And you�ll take my knowledge and stand in the sun.�
The child sits and he listens
The past of the sage and his future the same
And knows that this knowledge will never be lost,
But added to and passed on
When he is dry and weathered
From the sandstorm of living
