they all look at him now
he looks to the great scroll
unrolled to the horizon

over a mile of paper, industrial, delivered
in the only truck the villagers had ever seen
it had taken him half a day to unroll it
four years to fill it with erudition
he wanted the answer

he had started his task with what he knew
wrote about all he heard and saw
then villagers helped with stories from generations
old school books and childrens rhymes

until his own story had spread as well
travelers, tourists, rich yuppies and the wise
curiosity seekers, glory seekers, and the dreamers
all came with their own literature and ideas
stories, myths and sciences
opinions, facts and theories
even the bullshit
content upon content upon content upon-

until it was full
it would fit no more
he had written very small
both sides
and strode back

back to the small valley where it would begin
where they would all say it happened
they would be the ones to bear witness
surrounding the valley in silence, waiting
Now

he contemplates his unfurled highway
paved in knowledge bent on knees
with countless pen, pencil and brush
it stirs slightly in the dust, settling again
he removes his clothing, giving them to the wind
it is time

he picks up the end of the long strip
with his first feeble splotches
rolling the words in his hands
creasing and folding until the tip is steel sharp
too much wisdom can be very dangerous

he turns his face to the sunset
lets out a long sigh before, finally,
ramming the needled edge into his ear
those watching take a step back
as blood dribbles down his fingers and paper
and pools onto the ground
it is already very deep

he twists what parchment he can grab
into a vicious shaft to match the spear-head
and pushes the roped sheet even further in
spurring on with mad grunts
none, not even the little ones, look away

he belts out a shrill scream
splitting the stillness
as the expansive list drags
slowly forth
they know
they waited for this…

(to be continued)