Darius, the Immortal priest of Highlander the Series, was Duncan MacLeod's friend and beloved mentor. Formerly a great general, he laid down his sword and spent the last 1500 years of his life working for peace from Holy Ground. The Clan MacSpam has adopted the Serenity of Darius because we believe in his message of peace for mortals and Immortals alike. May his memory live forever.
(Dedicated to the memory of Werner Stocker)
Few now living can remember
The warrior that you were,
How you rode across the steppes from the Ural Mountains,
Long hair flying in the wind,
Gray eyes turned towards the distant ocean,
Bent on the conquest of all that lay between.
Nameless now, and numberless,
The lives and lands your armies laid to waste
With torch and axe, spear and sword,
In a terrible passage of death.
You might have ruled the western world
But for one man who barred your way,
By whose death the taker of life was taken,
Illuminated, and transformed,
And in that ending found not an end,
But a beginning.
Most of us who knew you saw a quiet man,
The gentle priest in robes of friar's brown,
Teaching the ways of peace on Holy Ground,
And sharing your wisdom over cups of strange tea.
A warrior still, you slaughtered us at chess,
Left us our heads, but won our hearts.
Beside your fire, we laid aside our swords,
To listen to the words of one who knew
The greatest wars are fought within the mind and soul,
And ideas are the most powerful of weapons.
In time we left you, and you wished us peace,
But we had grown to depend on your guidance.
We thought you would always be there, waiting for us,
In your time-battered chapel of the holy wells,
A fixed point, like the pole star, never changing,
And so we set our courses by your light,
Knowing you'd lead us back to you someday.
But now St. Julien's holy wells are dry.
Their mouths are stopped with earth and stone.
The healing power that once flowed from them
And from your open hands is gone.
The sanctuary and courtyard where you walked
Echo with our footsteps, nothing more.
In your little room, the dusty chessmen keep the vigil now.
Your books are closed, your fire no longer burns.
But something of your spirit lingers still,
Within these walls that sheltered you so long,
And in those lives forever touched and changed
By your serene example and your love,
Unseen, unheard, but somehow deeply known,
A glowing presence, like some inner star,
To light our way, and guide us home.
Drawing and poem by tirnanog, (c) copyright 1997.