Continued from Part 2.

David read the verses back and forth several times before the fact that he was supposed to solve a riddle dawned on him.
He began to whisper the verses:
“So three dozens, that makes about thirty-six object, are divided equally, so among the twelve there must be four Crosses, four Candles and four Chalices… that‟s clear. Now, begin with light and end with light… maybe the first artifact is a candle…”

He looked at the poem again and thought he got the first clue but he soon turned skeptical.
He looked around and he could see people walking. Some were praying near the altar, others were kneeling in front of statues of Mary and Joseph and Jesus. Everyone was preoccupied with asking God to help him with his own troubles, and not one of them cared about the difficulties David was facing.
He looked around and saw an old woman, with long silvery hair. She had a serene look on her face. She moved gracefully as if flying a couple of inches above the ground. She was moving towards David at a slow pace. But there was something about her that he couldn‟t quite describe.

She moved closer and sat on the bench right in front of him but did not talk with him.
That situation lasted for about three minutes until David breathed a deep sigh and the woman looked at him. He looked back, straight into her eyes and a look of shock appeared on her face.
“Tu peux me voir?” she gasped in amazement.
“Oui, je peux, c’est une stupide question… tu es la et j’ai des yeux”
“Ah! Alors tu ne sais pas qui je suis ou quel est mon état physique, metaphysique pour etre de plus en plus precis?”
David looked at her in awe. What was she talking about? She was right there, flesh and bone, in front of him. But who was she? He didn‟t have any clue whatsoever.
“Look!” he spoke in fast English. “I don‟t know who you are, and I don‟t know what sort of metaphysics you‟re discussing. Now if you‟ll excuse me, there is something time-consuming that I‟m preoccupied with!”
The woman did not reply. David couldn‟t figure out if she understood him or not; he did appreciate, however, the silence as he returned to the poem.
It was then that the woman caught a look of what he was reading and a look of utter happiness appeared on her face.
“I can help you with that poem!” she said calmly.
“Excuse me?” asked David, half not-hearing what she said exactly and the other half not quite sure if what he heard was true.
“You heard me…. I can help you with the poem. I know the sequence. I created the poem. That’s my handwriting…”
David looked up at the woman and tried to comprehend what she said.
He looked at her again and thought for a moment. He decided that he had nothing to lose.