THE WISE MAN
By Baker Street
It was open day on the ‘Market of Time and Space’. The market itself was vast and desolate with only the wind stirring the sails of the stalls while the sellers were displaying their wares to the public and all potential buyers. ‘The Wise Man’ browsed from stall to stall and century to century through the swirling dust and the shouts from the traders in the echoing wind. Taking offers from all comers. The brilliance of each century and its champions, the greatest kings and countries from all time; from the Hellenic Age, through to the middle ages, unto the pinnacle of the 19th Century. Of all time and understanding and civilization. And then suddenly, abruptly, he ended at the stall of the miserable 20th Century seller, selling nothing but squalor and destruction especially as far as culture and principles were concerned. This merchant sold nothing but 20th Century junk he was convinced, yet he browsed a bit amongst the heaps of worthless trash for a while none the less. Suddenly his eyes caught the glimmer of pure gold as picked up the small trinket, an unknown little poet none the less, of pure and outstanding class. A little 'Apostle' he was. Someone’s lucky charm in the darkest of all ages he would guess. He seemed to herald in the Golden Age of the 21st Century and beyond. He offered the merchant a price, but the merchant said that the item was beyond price. He paid the full sum, and they shook hands with a smile. He was now the proud owner of a small item consisting of pure and utter ‘Magic’. And true magic was beyond all price!