Perhaps he is setting out in the dark
for an unknown land,
following his heart, it may be,
following the wild wind,
but going –
going where the road goes.
Or perhaps he has lost that spark.
His heart, too, has grown old,
and all he can do now is cling to what he has,
what he knows.
Or perhaps, undecided,
he simply stood still in the snow
In the Waite-Smith card above (which I based the poem upon), the hermit is shown with a lantern, but in both these much older (15th Century) cards it is an hour-glass that he is holding. Makes a difference, doesn’t it.