The Poet awakens from a sleep that is alike in some manner to that of Rip Van Winkle. A coma like fugue, similar to a blackout caused by excess alcohol, yet he has not imbibed any spirit while at the home of the townsman. There is no way to know what has caused this situation, for it may have been a result of an allergic reaction, or a delayed reaction to the spirits imbibed at the tavern, outside of which he met the waif.

It would appear that the Poet has also experienced a somnambulant episode as well, for he is no longer in the home of the townsman, and he does not recognize the place where he now finds himself. As he tries to find his bearings, he has an odd feeling that an inordinate amount of time has passed, yet his sleep has not been restful. His body is racked with pain, he has a thirst and hunger as of a man that has not eaten in weeks, and even though his mind seems to be clear at this time, he cannot remember anything after the meal that he shared with the waif at the home of Townsman.

The poet now has a sense of urgency, a strange feeling that he must find the waif. It is as though someone were trying to send him a telepathic warning! There is a ringing in his ears that peals the message, “Return to us” “We need you!” “Help!”

It is surely this near psychic message that has caused the poet to awaken from his zombie state, and to return to the land of the living. It will now be his task to return to his previous path.

(**with a shake of his head**)
“It would appear that I have lost my way,
And feel that I must regain that path soon,
I have no knowledge of the hour or day,
I find though that I possess a strange rune.”

The Poet is apparently stricken with the urge to create poetry and sing it to himself, for there is no one to be seen in his immediate vicinity. If there were anyone near, the site would be a bit scary, for the Poet is engrossed in his conversation, and answers his own questions, in a most lucid manner. It is as though he is carrying on a conversation with himself, and actually receiving new answers and enlightenment!

“Fine Sir called the Poet I am sure you know,
The truth concerning the direction that I must surely go,

Nay, good sir, though you appear not as a stranger,
Direction I hav’nt, though I feel you’re in danger!”,

“Pray tell handsome man, that I see reflected in the water,
You must help me remember, my minds an empty blotter!”

Nay, Poetic one, I cannot help you to search and find,
For I am but a figment, of your tortured, demented Mind!

It is possible that you may be able to yourself find a way,
By using the runes, so cast them and heed what they say.



At this point we will leave the Poet to his personal torment, and we will hoipe to rejoin him as he gains a full grasp of his senses. Will he remember how to use the way of the Runes? What actually happened to him? is the Waif in Danger? Is the Poet still in the Harbour Town, or has he traveled far?
These and many other questions are to be answered as the Poet attempts to regain his bearings upon the open seas of his memory.