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Page of a Templar Knight ©

Malcolm Sinclair
Toronto, Canada

Onto the stage, a remarkable sight,
Strode the mystical Page of a Templar Knight.

"Hear ye, all ye men and women so fine,
Who imagine all knights at the end of their line.
Up from the depths of the ages long lost,
Where vengeance was wrought with a terrible cost,
Comes a Spectre, a Vision of rider and horse,
With cross, woven red, and a blade of force,
The fire of conviction. The strength of a vow,
A saint as a soldier for shielding us now.
No more shall a Pilgrim be robbed on her way.
No more shall a Potentate plunder the day.
No more shall the Lawbooks extinguish the flame.
No more shall the outcast surrender his name.
The Knights of the Temple ride strong at the fore,
And follow behind you securing the door.
By the power of Wizards and Spells and a Song,
These old Pilgrim-Keepers go canting along.
The stage of this world is far more than its props,
And its scripts and its actors. The proscenium stops
At predictable places, as required in the notes,
And as hammered, well-home, in our quotable quotes,
But Templars begin at the edge of that scene,
Where children and dreamers and dancers have been.
Their curtain arises when reticence falls
Their presence surprises. Their chivalry calls.
Their passion takes heart in whomever it will,
New Knights kneel and rise to protect all saints still."

The Page then acknowledged the crowd with a smile,
And left them in silence, to ponder awhile.

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