OAK II

My ancient rings are still this Season.
Silence echoes in my heart,
through my green blood
into the wan, wistful wind of Dawn,
beckoning to pure sounds 
lost to this Age,
to one who saw with all her being
past form and front into Light;
she knew that she knew naught, 
for her kind be ever rooted in Knowing,
their thoughts and words blossoms
of the deepest Wisdom 
they glean from earth and sky.
Before her grace, 
the Path carved its grooves and curves, 
for she sought its stretches
with her first steps. Her blood sang
the song of Life's River, 
whose strains conduct worthy spirits 
to Truth's threshold,
where Beauty apportions Vision
to souls who would fulfil Her mission.
Such She calls betimes 
to a greater Birth, to journey back 
to the Beginning. 
And here I bide to tell her tale to all who
pilgrimage to my sanctum, 
weary of man's gilded dominion 
of ire and fear, seeking the music 
of green harps and fluid lutes, 
heeding Polaris' wordless call to worship.

© 2016 Lily's Verse

Lilium Candidum

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