The Sage’s Warning: A Poem

The moment of truth when we have to decide what way to proceed. Author’s AI-created image.

Travel through time is stuff of fantasy

Said the Sage to the woman.

How can that be so, she asks —

When wonder is the prize?

Caution, chimed the Sage,

For you know not what you may find.

If it is wonder that you seek,

You must be wary of mind.

Curiosity is a curse

For those who look too far;

A loss of self in grand illusions

Shall lead to a path of tar.

She grimaced, not wanting to hear;

Such bleak and bitter words

Were not for her ears that day.

Time to leave, no more to be heard.

Maps, compass, and hat in hand

She picked herself up in haste,

For no old musty Sage

Would have her plans be laid to waste.

But something made her stall

As she turned around to see —

That old Sage was there no more;

Yet, where oh where could he be?

Was it a figment of her mind?

Was he never there at all?

She gathered herself against all odds

And made her way toward the wall.

The portal beckoned to the other world

Where she dreamed of going for years.

Just make it over the fields safe,

And there would end her tears.