The room was nearly silent,
Save the scratching of his quill.
As a lone white taper flickered,
From atop the window sill.
Slowly he filled the parchment,
As each new thought would pass.
Occasionally gazing outside,
Beyond the frosted glass.
He’d made a new discovery,
On that chilly winter’s night.
He’d set out on a journey,
Towards a path of Light.
He recalled the many numbers,
Like three and five and seven.
That to the Seeker chartered,
A Path that led to heaven.
But the parchment captured more,
Thank simple sets of numbers.
Squares and celestial circles,
And allegory filled with wonder.
The silence then was broken,
As a clock tower somewhere chimed.
And with it he closed his journal,
For he knew that it was time.
To return into the circle,
And dwell among the others,
Who sought the Light that he sought,
And who now were all his Brothers.