737. Dallan

Dallan limps slowly through the temple before dawn when everyone else is in bed asleep the only sounds that can be heard are holy fires by the doorways and the tapping of his ebony staff on the marble floor His red robe is patched and faded a shadow of its former glory his long white hair hangs down his back the same colour as his sightless eyes He goes to the entrance every day at this time to watch the sun rise up from behind the hills bathing him in its light and warmth as he offers a prayer of thanks The birds are singing good morning to the ancient priest as he reaches his usual spot for his first offering of the day his mind's eye can perceive the first shining rays as like the light a smile of joy spreads across his face