The Wizard
The Ember of Patience
by Fokion Triantafyllidis
at Radio Highway Pirates
Once upon a time, in a tower wrapped in ivy and moonlight, there lived an old and wise wizard whose beard flowed like silver river-water down his chest.
His windows glowed softly at night, and many who were troubled found their way to his door.
One such night, when the stars trembled like scattered diamonds across the sky, a gentle knock echoed through the tower.
There stood an elf – slender as a willow branch, with eyes wide and shining like morning dew.
His heart was pure, yet heavy with worry.
“Oh wise wizard,”
the elf said, bowing low,
“what shall I do? The young generation has lost the divine touch. They have no patience for the ancient scrolls, no hunger for the old wisdom. They do not sit and study – they wander, they laugh, they chase the wind…”
The wizard did not answer at once.
He slowly curled a strand of his long beard around his fingers and leaned back in his wooden chair, which creaked like an old oak in autumn.
A small smile touched his lips, as though he had heard this question many times before.
“My dear elf,”
he said gently,
“how can you ask the young to be patient, if you yourself have grown impatient with them?”
The elf blinked.
“Place yourself in their shoes,”
the wizard continued.
“If you were young again, would you rather sit beneath a dim lamp studying dusty scrolls… or would you fly like a free bird through a warm spring sky, feeling the sun upon your wings?”
The elf lowered his gaze, for he remembered the sweetness of such days.
The wizard’s eyes shone kindly.
“Do not command their interest – awaken it. Hide wisdom within wonder. Let learning feel like a quest, not a burden. Turn the ancient rolls into maps of adventure, into riddles to be solved, into doors waiting to be opened.”
He tapped his temple lightly.
“The knowledge of all humankind rests already within the mind. It is like a vast library built of light.
The young do not lack wisdom – they only lack the right key to unlock it. Give them guidance, not chains. Curiosity, not fear.”
Silence filled the tower, warm and thoughtful.
Then the elf’s face brightened, and his eyes shone like twin stars reborn.
He bowed deeply.
“Thank you, Master Wizard,”
he whispered.
And with a heart far lighter than before, the elf stepped back into the night.
In a shimmer of starlight and soft laughter carried by the wind, he disappeared among the trees – already dreaming of new ways to turn wisdom into wonder.
And it is said that from that night onward, the ancient scrolls were no longer silent – for they had become the beginning of many grand adventures.