“Do not make him your enemy,
Even though he may seem frail and weak.”

When a valiant warrior from afar assaulted the Grove,
He shattered their strength with only his eyes and pointing stick,
He sent them running, pride cut to the quick.

“He may seem cold and unkind,
But he sees through human emotions with just a peek.”

A student was troubled by love's trials and aches,
With one sentence, he guided them away from heartbreak,
Letting destiny's strands weave a path to love and happiness' shape.

“All is science, and human wisdom knows no bounds.
Both martial prowess and emotions are knowledge that can be found.”

He firmly believes that all things can be deciphered, bared to those who peek.
Those that cannot be solved are not mysteries infinite,
But only questions waiting to be answered, not obstacles bleak.

For those who only protect themselves, the world cannot see their intentions.
In sorrowful Parting Hours, the scholar refuses trifle matters.
Isolated in a corner of his library, he fiddles with instruments of crafters.

Colleagues suspect him of creating new blasphemies.
While students believe him to be making new miracles of mastery.

The curious one's gaze through the window beholds —
Seeing a small wooden bird on the table, wobbling in comfort,
Swaying in the scholar's hand, an endearing cohort.

I ask him,
Seeking his motive for this effort.
But the scholar usually so quick to retort,
Refuses to answer, seemingly coming up short.

Creatures that through his hands pass,
All change their functions,
Invoking wonder peerless.

He once removed his hat, as others witnessed,
The walked on the hat over water, with success.
They also saw him light a flare, fearless,
Instead creating chilling cold air not so harmless.

That bird was once a toy,
And now his messenger…
Or perhaps still a toy.

That is the magic trick of his success,
And one of his teachings that he will profess.
“Nothing in this world is ever born fixed.”

The far-seeing must be far in thought.
His teachings are like prophetic delight,
Yet he opposes prophecies with all his might.

It's a time he refrains from looking back on —

Traveling all lands, chasing prophecies,
Trying to prove the priests' words were not unchangeable foresight.

Countless times, he exhausted his crafty sleights.

Wanting to rescue the doomed and resurrect wights.
Wanting to shame the prophesied heroes of magic and might.
Wanting to sway promised villains to a course more upright.

Perhaps fate could not guess his goals,
But it could trample over his plans overnight —

At the end, all his challenges flicker out,
But he persists still, in endless plight.

His ambitions are too lofty,
And so failure follows him never too softly.

Through moments of defeat, felt increasingly common,
The scholar learned one thing he has never forgotten —

Respond to defeat with a smile haughty.

Not from optimis,
Nor from a defeat of the heart…

“I thank this misfortune's severity.”
The laughter oozes with self-mockery,
But is also full of a different emotion…

“If this road is easy to walk, then future generations will not praise my name in piety.”
— Says his ambition.