A gentle fire
Runs along
The ley-lines of my soul,
Neither burning
Nor consuming
But rather lighting
A soft blue glow
Upon my Web,
Revealing the Sacred Maze
Within me.
Far, far beyond the reaches
that you could ever know,
on far, far alien beaches
where nighttime oceans glow,
a Child has drawn a sigil
upon the turquoise sand,
and so transforms the Weaving
of the Destiny of Man.
"Unwary soul,
that does not know
that limits do exist --
Your child-believing
transforms the Weaving:
What chaos comes from this!"
"Believe, and know,
my Wyrd-Adept,
that what you weave exists -
that what you've done
has echoes spun
beyond the Void's own cliffs."
The candle's glow
attunes the dark,
warms the Nightwind's hands;
I sing myself
within its flame
and wake in foreign lands.
Stillness
so the Water
opens e'er I ask
to draw me
from this Realm
and through the Looking Glass.
Flames
call to me:
reborn the Thunderbird
reborn the Prophecy;
Drums
call to me:
reborn the Dragon-Elf
reborn the Changeling Sidhe;
Chants
call to me:
reborn the Salmon Stream
reborn the Willow Tree;
Magic
calls to me:
reborn the Celtic Moon
reborn the Portal's Key.
Mystic Poems
Ley-ity: Deep Earth Wisdom