"No my son, the diety has never left us, humankind was destroyed from within. First we were foolish then we refused to admit we were wrong. We elected leaders who led us into the "War of the Great Deception". When the hoax was apparent we stayed the course to our own destruction." The old man wiped his brow and perhaps his eyes. In the glow of the bonfire flames, the boy could not be sure. But if Wiseman shed tears for the loss of humanity, the boy understood. His eyes were no longer dry and his heart was near to bursting with the pain and emptiness. The old man's past was a sad struggle, and the boys future was blown to the wind.

Slowly now, Wiseman rose again, and he tapped his sticks. before he fed the fire. "We had a handful of heros that struggled valiantly to end the wars. It began under the guise of stopping a madman. Wars spread like a virus. The fabric of borders and religions and ancient ways were ripped apart. We bred a generation of terrorists with the mistaken notion that "might makes right". The Land of America was once a valiant and noble realm. It was lost to those who loved her when the "War of Deception" became a global conflict. A giant that once extended itself for human rights became a monster, finally trying to dominate the world. We offered freedom or death. Resistance was worldwide and violent...many died in the 20 year war. Not only soldiers, but children and innocents. It was a sad time that bankrupted all of civilization and finally the soul of America."

"When you lose your soul it is hard to begin again. Our resources and energy were siphoned off. Over time our laws and rights were stripped away. At first, the leaders needed justification for their illegal actions. Martial law was ultimately declared. People were cattle to be warehoused and controlled. Our freedom fighters were not soldiers, but teachers and scientists. Our history was built on revolution, but at the end of time only a few stepped forward. Brave voices and patriots died quickly. The Twins rose to power on their Father's shoulders. A handful of robber barons took control with their blessing. And finally the technology that was almost worshipped in those times, became the instrument of control that purged so many." The old man's voice was fading and he pulled out a flask and sipped greedily.

There was a dull ache in the youth's head and a new resolve in his spirit. The boy had heard parts of the story piecemeal. Once his father had a conversation with a trader. A farmer had complained to a local tax collector at the market place. An old woman from his tribe told stories of the evil twins and the golden heros. Now all the pieces were starting to fit. And with understanding came frustration.

The sightless man hesitated and then he smiled without joy. "It took us a decade to save the books. We brought them on the last fumes of gasoline in a convoy of trucks. We carried them on wagons with the new beasts of burden. We saved rotting libraries and abandoned technology. My friends and I sometimes lost our lives, but we fought for treasures that far outweigh precious gems. And now I grow old. This Canyon is where peace and hope still live." Wiseman raised his voice and lifted his stick towards the hogans...Like statues in the night the boy saw the huts that stretched across the floor of the Canyon, as far as his eye could see.

Wiseman was spent and tired. He wrapped his cloak around him and slept by the fire. The boy added a log and prayed it burned through the cold damp night. He lit a torch and walked away.

The sun had risen and set four times. Wiseman felt stronger as if he had shared his burden with the boy. On the fifth day Wiseman woke to the warmth of the sun. His finely tuned ears were alarmed. Unexpected visitors were walking towards him. Maybe two dozen sets of footsteps moved closer to the ashes of his fire. "Who goes there!" His voice was harsh but his heartbeat was quickened. Although he tried to disquise it he knew that he was vulnerable. Wiseman was intimidating, but most of the time fear was his companion.

"I am here," cried his young friend. I have brought my brothers and a band of young souls. We will help you protect our future. In all there were 20 children. An army dressed in rags, a band of all ages from several tribes, who had heard the story that Wiseman told from the boy with his mutant dog.

The children were tough and browned by the sun. They were a motley group but determined and fierce in their quest for a future. Out of their hard hearts small virtues sprang up during the beginning days. Kindness was expressed in deeds rather than verbal expression. In time, the band of children grew. Some orphans drifted here to the last stop in the canyon. Mothers kissed their children's foreheads and sent them from the tribes in the direction of the Wiseman and his army of children. A new tribe was formed. It was unlike any before or since.

Good to his word, the boy made sure that Wiseman was protected and the hogans were intact. No one knows when the children started to explore the books. Only a few of them knew how to read in the beginning. But it was not an entirely lost skill and they taught each other.

Wiseman was growing feeble. The children became strong taking turns pulling him in an ancient cart that had been long ago abandoned. It was during the time when Wiseman was ending that the soul of humanity was reborn. Love and light returned to the Canyon and the children developed the lost arts of technology and community and even love. The last day Wiseman lived he was blessed with laughter and a bright hope that is still alive. So the story goes that Wiseman saw the end of times with his eyes and the beginning of times with his heart.

Coloconnect

Moving closer he hesitated then spoke....Wiseman faced him and the boy confirmed that the old man could not see. It made him braver, and it also made him sad. Maybe the man that saved the books could not even read.

The old man spoke, "Boy, why are you here?" The boy moved closer and stuttered..."I am looking for answers. If we won the war of the "Great Deception" why are our cities in ruin. I have only heard a little, but I seek to understand." Wiseman pointed to a clearing and the youth followed him to a fire that was burning nearby.

They sat without words by the fire as the sun began it's journey to the horizon. Finally Wiseman spoke quietly. "Our cities did not die from the war we raged. Humanity was destroyed by arrogance, young one." The boy was afraid to speak he did not want to interrupt the flow of words from the blind man. "My eyes saw bustling cities and the gift of technology. I remember when there was warmth in the wintertime and we ruled the skies like birds. Mankind even walked on other worlds once. " anguish and longing filled the old man's voice.

Speechless now, the boy stroked his dog's neck and waited for Wiseman to continue. The blind man moved quickly around the campsite. He reached down and got more wood from a makeshift bundle to feed the fire. "There were great halls and museums. I speak of untold wonders that your mind cannot conceive in this dark world. Human spirit was inspired to great works of art. Simple people were moved to acts of kindness. There were many Gods and many forms of worship before the purge."

Then the youth could not contain himself, he needed to know. "This is a wonderful world you speak of, Wiseman. But how can we lose so much? It defies all logic and all that is good. How could these miracles disappear from the face of the earth? Did God turn his back on man?..."

After the wars, there were the purges, then came the struggles. What was left of humanity lived in a harsher time. The world slowed. The great cities fell. Images of consumer items were ragged posters in abandoned subway stations. The artificial lights went out and the world became sunlight or darkness, except for the Canyon of Shadows where torches still lit the nightime and books covered by makeshift hogans survived.

Humanity, or what was left of it, scattered into tight tribes. Laughter was a rare sound. Survival became a conscious thought not a luxury to be studied and written about. The wanderers often passed the hogans on their hunting expeditions. They never acknowleged that they were so close and so far from the last light of a civilization. A sense of loss remained for a place that still flowed through their blood, but no longer inspired their journey.

A youth and his mutant dog were searching in the Canyon of Shadows. He was young in years, but old for these times of strife. The heros of his childhood had only one name. He had heard and grew to admire people like Valkyrie, Iceman, Wayfarer, and most of all Wiseman. This journey, he would seek out Wiseman, this time there would be answers.

He was a fortunate youth, or maybe destiny finally smiled on him. He found Wiseman at the edge of the Canyon. He approached being cautious of Wiseman's walking stick, aware that in his lifetime he had been struck many times by strangers on the road.

Moving closer he hesitated then spoke....Wiseman faced him and the boy confirmed that the old man could not see. It made him braver, and it also made him sad. Maybe the man that saved the books could not even read.

Do not move quickly into the August sun.
The longest shadows edge the day to a cool breeze.
And Mary calls and waves to no avail
To the children gathered underneath the cypress trees.

Long cars move slowly through the neighborhood,
One behind the other following in tandem.
"Ashes to ashes and dust to dust,"
To Mary it seems so pointless and so random.

She kicks fresh dirt beside an open grave.
The cars are leaving faster than they came....
Mary smells a rose and smiles a lovely smile.
She'll be leaving like the others all the same.

Mary doesn't live here anymore......

Arthur passes Mary but he cannot see.
He raises his face to heaven and feels the rain.
All alone in his darkness and his grief
Arthur knows he will always feel this deepest pain.

Mary touches Arthur but he cannot feel.
His tears mix with the wet and rainy day.
Mary sends her love a kiss and a caress...
As the evening passes so does Arthur's rage.

"My memories will never be enough,"
And finally he begins to move away.
Mary walks alone into the night ....
"Same time, next life," he heard her say

Mary has temporarily changed addresses........