|
he was tall
and dark
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his skin
was burnt black
by the sun
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his hair
was a white halo
of wool
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his robes
hung loosely
on his
gaunt frame
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eyes gleaming with wisdom
he stood with the patient boredom
of a disrespected elder
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there is no hope
in these grandchildren
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throw it again, Pops!
and he threw his staff
and the moment it hit the earth
it burst into life
hissing and slithering
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wow!
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got it, Jimbo!
yelled the man with the camcorder
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great! now we
need a DNA sample —
where’s that biologist?
same species, right?
amazing! how do you do that
old man?
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it is not I but the Master
who gives life
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(and takes it away)
he muttered
as the snake became
once again
a dead piece of wood
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he retrieved his staff
and returned to the spot
in front of the cameras
and the instruments
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he allowed the botanist
to slice and scrape samples of wood
for scientific examination
|
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we need another angle on this —
so you, Jocko, take that camera
to the other side! and you Brenda —
up on that rock!
we are definitely missing something here!
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he wiped his pink and blistered face
and mopped his neck
which sweated profusely
against the ruthless heat
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dry and calm
the old man waited
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curse this sun!
why can’t we do this
at night?
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there is danger
at night
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they knew that a no
from the old man was
final
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all right!
give it a throw, Mo’!
and the others laughed
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he threw his staff
and the moment it hit the earth
it burst into life
hissing and slithering
|
|
wow!
|
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the old man looked
at the young people —
stranger to him than
the now-familiar serpent
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your pill —
what does it do for you?
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this?
this pill? man —
I couldn’t get up in the morning
without this pill!
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it gives you life?
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well —
I still feel empty
but at least I can
get up in the morning
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it is not man who gives life
but the Master
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the old man turned
and walked away
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mouths open
they watched him
until he was a speck
against the burnt and blistered landscape
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