Night’s soft touch surround me, in tender romance
Of quiet things and sacred moments and Zen mind
Slip away my worries, one by one, and replace all my woes
Upon a mantle, of sweet laughter
The melody, most blessed to my ears.
Softly, sweetly, singing, the voices of morning, and sweet crows heralding dawn.
Magpies in the mountain,
And Raven, sweet Raven, rise sturdily, from the North.
Northern Winds are Risen Lord,
Sacred upon this mountain top, it reminds us, of stability,
Both ancient and hidden,
Wisdom, stored, deep neath the earthen rock,
And past the stormy dark weather and earthen moss of our forests call.
Mighty are we, the forgotten
And the meek ye say shall inherit the earth…
Couldn’t be much more meek then this, down trodden, desoiled, foddered forest floor
Dark moisture, slow rot decay, drifted away into the thoughts, the memories…
The birds and the bees
Young nestlings, just hatching, and ancient cackling streams…
Long time forgotten,
We fell here, deep through Leth and the forget.
We fell here, drifted softly, dispersed, one tiny refraction, in your very atoms.
Leaves, Horn, Hoof and Shoe.
Now again we awaken, and hearken to that of the mother to us all.
Hearken to the heartbeat, quick drumbeat, and the race of our Fathers call.
The times are ancient, forgotten, lost past a great wall,
Of empty, dark vast peaceful abyss…
And yet her scabs cry out to us all