Wednesday 28 October 2015



WARRIORS

The bonfire blazes on, drawing
tides of Memory into
its belly from earth and skies,
from winds and waters,
splashing a welter of vignettes
upon the chill night air.
Grandpa's words colour patterns
of flickering light and shade,
of voices and music, of battles
planned to the beat of
ancient drums. 
Fallen warriors rise, looking amid
the ferment upon their
blood that now courses through
my veins.
Swords and spears glow anew
with the zeal of intrepid
souls, whose march hallowed the
ground as the steps of
our spiral dance.
I hear the clash of iron, the fighter's
call to the brotherhood
for freedom, the seer's incantations
exalting the Horned God,
as all wilderness, wandering and
wildness.
The stars stood still upon their path,
it is said, surveying in awe 
these spirits that shone bright as they.
Far above the hordes they
gathered, for to guard the sleep of the
living and dead, glorying in
the sublimity of Life's sacred circle.
Warriors of myriad creeds 
live and sleep beneath the selfsame
stars, as The Great Wheel
turns. Our duties and debts we ken
afresh, as the ashes
reclaim Light's eternal lore.


© 2015 Lily's Verse
Lilium Candidum

Image source: en.wikipedia.org


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