The Myth of Ten

 

 

 

 

 

The Myth of Ten

 

 

The young girl said, “Close your eyes

And then slowly count to ten

While I run and hide into the glen

I will wait for you until the owl cries”.

 

The boy who was only ten

Hurried through the tell

“Ready Mar Here I come!” he did yell

Little did young Lar understand – this was not Zen

 

The summer day turned when rang the church bell

And the winter night came with twinkling stars

He looked and he searched until there were scars

For dear, dear Mar was neither in heaven nor hell

 

He would become Lar the mighty Tsar

He ruled the black mountains

And the green valley with magic fountains -

Never again would he count ten nor close his to eyes - to find his Mar.