Many waited, Simeon knew. Waited for David's heir to ride with blade unsheathed, Elijah's fire to fall on the heathen, a dreamer to speak YAH's very words.
Simeon waited for consolation.
The Fear drove him into the temple, to them. He said little of what It had shown him, the all-enveloping Word contracted to their squalling bundle, flames rising on the heads of the righteous. When the mother turned her young, confused, Galilean face to him, he found himself speaking of a hill, a hanging tree, a sword piercing her soul.
Afterward, satisfied, he only waited for his final breath.
Postscript: To listen to audio of this and other stories, please download Season One of the I Saw Lightning Fall podcast here.