The old man in a blue robe

"Are you not rushing to the sword as well old man? Do you not want to become king?"

He sat there silently then spoke, "I am a weak sickly old man. How could I become king?"

"What about you, youngster?"

"haHaha" I laughed idiotically and childishly

"I live in these streets, not in a house. I hold a bottle not a sword. I can't take care of myself, how could I take care of others?"

"..Not all men are worthy, but everyone can become worthy." He responded.

"Even those wolves in sheep's clothing who roam the streets in the night?"

"...maybe. You are a wise man youngster, do not waste your gift."

"Gift? I have nothing."

"And that is what you should be grateful for. Having nothing gives room for something."

I slumped in silence, now sober without the bottle and wise words clearing my mind.

The old man's robe fluttered in the air like wings sprouting out from behind him

"And you are wrong about something. You do have something, that is your life."

His footsteps slowly grew silent

While my mind was like a calm ocean

I look at my hand, no longer a bottle but a tarot card

"The ace of gardens?"

…

"Where was the sword in the stone again?"