ROWAN II

Your dwelling I defend, your spirit preserve;
my fruit Nature crowned with
an ancient star, arcane sigil of her protection.
Sacred am I to fair Brighid,
born in the Goddess' land of the faery folk,
upon Earth shielded
by the Guardian of the Otherworld.
Many a forlorn heart seeks expression in my
green shade, listening for whispers
of the ineffable, for the language of Grace that
is the blood of the sacred cycle.
In my light shall mortal words glow brighter,
imbued with hues of my import.
The Tree of Immortality am I, destined to fly
as Brighid's arrows;
to swirl and sing as spinning wheel and spindle,
sharing in your labours of love, your art.
My branches shall build Beltane's fires,
Samhain's blazing torches, my music thus set
free, thence to drift over Earth's vastness,
that I may taste a new and remote air,
my song shining against the looming night,
where once the Wheel of Fire edged my boughs
and leaves with gold.
The flowers of my soul shall forever bloom in
this sacred air; 
my shade, now greener, shall ray from a briefly
barren hollow through Spring's first Dawn.

© 2016 Lily's Verse

Lilium Candidum

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