They burn, the occult moon is in its fullest splendor,
and oh how I wish for the desert to release its young,
while burning sands and vipers slide upon them to
no destination, other than to find the shade, to feel
some comfort, momentarily though it is!
The lit up skies, with meteors soaring through
the heavens, only to vanish and return again to
where they began, when the big bang threw
them off course,man awaits now its destiny,
ruin and doom foreshadows their worth.
Yet like a child I was overtaken by your beauty,
the midnight sky released it to me, you alone
knew me all along, you the goddess of heaven
cast your love through the Universe to meet me
in comet’s path cutting me off from life itself.
I felt you, your passion as the moon dimmed,
the winter solstice was about to begin, yet you
alone weaved the web of life, nobody on earth
could imagine that life beyond death existed,
but the gods gave you the power to cast a
magic spell upon us.
Like a schoolboy I saw you in your entire
splendor, I wished for nothing more than to
hold you, kiss your velvet lips,begging you
to love me forevermore, but you vanished,
leaving me alone, and the willow was no more,
broken I was, no soul, no want to live, just to
be buried beside our dying love, our eternity
was cast, we would be together at last, bathing
in spirit and soul.
The ancients walk the moors, they build the
fires and ignite their dead in dripping ashes,
souls and spirits are but one, they knew they
were here for a short time; they loved and
died by the sword, protecting and securing
a life after death in Valhalla.
Oh let their ghosts be a reminder of whence
we came, who we were, a tough breed of warriors,
strewn across the Celtic map, a history of
wanderers, lighting fires, burning ash, leaving
our mark for all future generations, like our
world has never seen.
Firelight will shine their way, like fireflies,
they will ignite and shine a path, lead the way
and follow our ancestors to the grave, we will
love always, seeking to fulfill our ancestral rites,
the night is ours, the cold our warmth, the
animal skins our comfort, the sword our savior.
Oh sweet ancestors, let us lead by example of
who we were, and why we are here, where we
came from too, let no man question our loyalty
nor our roots, our clan, our heritage, for the
harvest moon is upon us, October fires are lit,
our souls are warmed by its mighty glow.
* * *
©2014 Vincent Moore. All rights reserved