Danta looked up to see a giant of a man standing above him. "Come, sit." he motioned. The master sat.

"Master." said the master.

"I am. . . no master. . . shepherd." Danta said.

"That is a matter of debate, you are a master poet." said Kolon.

"I am a shepherd not a poet."

"When I sent my messenger to you, your small note spoke more than the few words."

"But look to me… and hear… my speech." Danta could not speak clearly to people. "I do not fit."

"So what is flowery speech, comely looks, or steady legs. You can command the world with your pen.

"But my sheep?"

"You could lead men."

"What about my irascible nature?"

"Maybe, we need a choleric to keep people in line. Show me some of your work, and let me judge it myself."

"I told you, I am no poet."

"I see otherwise, maybe you can help me with a problem,"

          sweet song

          without sound

          without odor

          gentle sight

"it seems too full."

"And you call yourself The Master, let me help you child. Your first line sets the tone, and the metre. You should follow that pattern, or have good reason not to. In either case you don't. Your last line gives away the answer to your riddle. You should be more subtle. I should send you off to write it correctly, if you can, but I don't want you coming back.

          sweet song

          no sound taste

          warm glow

Now go away and leave me alone."

"If you can compose verse like that you are clearly a master. I only know a few who can analyze a poorly written poem so well and improve it so quickly."

Danta sighs, "I do not write."

"You what?"

"I do not write, I have never written a poem."

"Then this gift is innate."

"No you fool, I calculate the verse in my head."

Suddenly realizing, Kolon stared at Danta. "But I have seen writings of your work, how is this so?"

"On the rare occasion that I speak to anyone I have often spoken to them in verse, in little riddles, hoping to confuse them, to drive them away."

"If you do not write, then what benefit is your work for people?"

"I have no use for people, they are cruel and evil."

"Then, maybe you can change them."

"They will not change. Besides, no one has ever listened to me, or understood me."

"But it seems rather selfish to just compose verse for yourself."

"You know nothing of that. It is not true, for I also compose my verse to worship God."

"Then what use are you here? You should go to him."

"That will happen soon."

Kolon felt a chill wind pass through his bones, as if the hand of death was touching them both. He could not speak. His voice and thoughts were torn from him.

After staring at each other forever Danta spoke, "Somehow my words will tear the world apart, just as a farmer plunges his fork in the soil and turns the earth around."

Kolon walked down the hill as the new sun slowly melted away the early morning fog. His feet barely touched the ground. He knew that he had been in the presence of one who walked with God. and felt ashamed for challenging Danta, yet he felt at peace, somehow knowing that he had done the right thing.

Kolon sat at the table in the large tent that the poets erect for special meetings. At the table were all of the master poets.

"My good ladies and gentlemen please enjoy the pastries and hot drinks set before you. Relax and be comfortable, and wipe the sleep from your eyes. In a few moments we will discuss the matter before us.

"You should all by now be aware of the problem set before us. I know that you are wondering what you could possibly do to solve it. I know that we are merely poets, but you all know that in our society a poets word is honored greatly. Of course we are not warriors, but who of The People are? Our words could turn the hearts of The People to the defense of our valley.

"The first thing we must do is to go to our weapons of war, our pen and our paper. We must wield them with all of our mental might.

"Our next job is not quite as simple. There is a young man in the northern end of the valley. This man may not seem to be of any importance to our valley, or to our struggle. This young man does not appear to be a man of any worth, or future. He is crippled with a disease that will soon kill him. He does not speak clearly, at least to people. He is a totally recalcitrant person.

"This man refuses to cooperate with us. He considers all of us below all of the beasts of the land. Despite his great downfalls he is surprisingly the one person who can turn the hearts of the people to save our valley. This man is in one way the master of us all. He is the greatest poet that has lived on this mountain. I have sat next to this man, and read some of his simple verse. He is the first person that I have met who has sat next to God. Somehow he has the power to turn The People around and save us.

"Our biggest problem is that our destruction would please him, for he has seen our hearts and deemed us unworthy of salvation. He is also a greater pacifist than any of us. Maybe we can use these conflicting emotions to turn his will to our purposes.

"I need one of you to volunteer to meet this young man and persuade him to do his duty to his people. This will not be easy. This man will not give you any slack. You will wish that you had never started.

"As a poet, though, the challenge will be extremely rewarding. This young man is the greatest poet on the mountain, possibly the greatest poet ever.

"Do I have any volunteers? Is there anyone who is brave enough?" Kolon waited patiently, he wasn't sure if anyone would take his challenge, his bait. He was hoping that someone was willing to accept the assignment.

Finally someone stood up. Everyone looked. Kalin stared back then looked straight at Kolon. "I am the one." That was all that she needed to say.

Kolon stared sternly at her, then he smiled. "Kalin, you are such a tenacious fighter that I know that you could convince him. Thank you for your help my ladies and gentlemen. Please consider my challenge, and maybe we can convince The People. Now Kalin, let's consider the matter before us. Here are some examples of Danta's verse. Maybe you can look at them and learn something about him from them."

Kalin sat at the table and stared at the poems. She knew that she had to meet this man. No one ever wrote verse like this. Their valley was worth redeeming even if it was just to save Danta.

Danta sat on his bed, humming. The morning sun shone brightly onto his face. He felt the warming rays and it blessed him. He rocked gently with his legs crossed. The rhythm of the music in his mind slowly formed into shapes, the shapes into thought, the thought into words.

          under skin into shame

          only pain with anger

          tears cannot heal

          solace sears

Danta shook with the terror of his vision. Sights of filth, cobbled streets, wagons roaring through the night. Sights of children begging in the streets, living out their lives in loneliness. Children who would never see maturity. Ragged women and men with open sores, with tears, pleading.

Danta could not imagine how he could see these sights. The valley had always been his home. Danta hadn't moved more than three miles from his home his whole life.

A small squirrel ran up to him and chittered, then ran away. Danta looked into the distance, and smiled. He rarely had any visitors. The guests he usually tolerated were poor and simple, and often came to him just to hear a small piece of wisdom.

It would be an hour or so before his guest would show. Danta would wait and calm his mind. He did not have many female visitors. He wasn't sure how he would respond. He wasn't sure how he could feel. He hadn't had any feeling for anyone for longer than he could remember.