Vigil

This is the vigil of an archaeologist. He digs, and waits; his dig is more like the careful raking of a sand-garden beneath the rising sun.

This is the vigil of a librarian. He shelves, and waits; his shelving is more like the careful playing of a gigantic cathedral pipe-organ.

This is the vigil of an alchemist. He blends and distills; the burbling of the retorts is careful but the transcendence reeks of danger.

This is the vigil of a knight. He knows that time is short; the beast is nigh, and yet he must pass the night in silence and watchfulness.

Thus, invigilation finds her sons across the far-flung lands. If they were joined by line of light and thought, they would be a necklace of many strands thrown around the neck of Gaia. And oh, how beautiful it is.