In the hush of nocturne silence
walking through the misted veil of fog
with the only sound a distant howling
of the wind, one may glimpse spirits
waiting with hungry eager eyes.

To trespass upon this sacred ground,
the earth frosted with the crust of winter,
from the gloom it emerges the shadow
of Yggdrasil, beneath its cosmic canopy
he awaits, my phantom in the moonlight.

The Stag King, gilded in all his glory,
a warmth like wildfire inflames me
beneath the touch of his body upon
my scorched skin, pinned by the intensity
of unspoken primal need, our souls yearn
towards each other.

Now beneath the fullness of the moon
it is time, the striking midnight hour,
for the Great Rite to be commenced
with tender touches, feather like lips
caressing, barely concealing the
passionate trembling of energy
to be unleashed.

We are duality merging into
unity, and as our bodies become
one, and only the stars may hear
the melodies of ecstasy as they alone
our witness, we conjure the God and the Goddess,
that may Heaven and Earth reaffirm
their connection, in dedicated devotion
love and lust become pure divinity.

The echoes of the past
roar in a the ever present thunder
of waves beating against the rocky shore,
where ghosts seem to linger behind every
turn of stone, and history breathes
within the sighs of the wind,
which still carry faintly the music
of the bards which once prevailed.

In the passing years,
beneath the yolk of the church
which now appears to prevail,
there is an ancient voice
that will not be eclipsed
and still the lore of the
Druid’s live upon the lips,
and within the hearts
of the people.

The legend of the fae,
and the spirit of the land
remain just as pervasive
upon this day as it was through
the centuries more than 100 years
ago.

It is the Heathen soul
which will always be kept alive,
and never broken
or forsaken,
however others may try,
the power still beats strong
of the mysteries once held,
a mystic thread never to be severed.

A Valentine

For her this rhyme is penned, whose luminous eyes,
Brightly expressive as the twins of Leda,
Shall find her own sweet name, that nestling lies
Upon the page, enwrapped from every reader.
Search narrowly the lines!- they hold a treasure
Divine- a talisman- an amulet
That must be worn at heart. Search well the measure-
The words- the syllables! Do not forget
The trivialest point, or you may lose your labor
And yet there is in this no Gordian knot
Which one might not undo without a sabre,
If one could merely comprehend the plot.
Enwritten upon the leaf where now are peering
Eyes scintillating soul, there lie perdus
Three eloquent words oft uttered in the hearing
Of poets, by poets- as the name is a poet’s, too,
Its letters, although naturally lying
Like the knight Pinto- Mendez Ferdinando-
Still form a synonym for Truth- Cease trying!
You will not read the riddle, though you do the best you can do.

~Poe

[If you take the first letter from the first line, the second letter from second line, the third letter from the third line, and so on all the way down, it spells out the name of a secret valentine]

Untouched purity
captivates the soul
and propels the mind
into the embracing solitude,
as echoes carry across the mountains
their songs speak of legends
which are whispered within each
ripple of the water, for faces which begin
to fade away into the mist, and watching eyes
from those who touched the spirit of the land
knowingly with quiet reverence,
now preserved with the passage of time.

A thousand stories which can be read
into the changing landscape,
the passage of the seasons
altering natures course,
winter’s encompassing touch
erases the memories of a passing year
heals scars and conceals old wounds
to make virginal once more in its glistening
white touch, and soon to melt away
into new life reborn free from the collective sorrows.

Beauty which entrances and transcends
beyond human thought
to touch the pulse beneath the land,
listen to the Earth’s heartbeat,
and feel the passage of the spirits
in the bone-numbing cold of
winter’s fog, they know you
even if you have forgotten.

2-The High Priestess

Seek the quiet within the mind
attune the inner eye
to find the truth deep inside
and your soul in moonlight will glow
embracing the power of the moon
seated upon her throne of night.

Whispers of the inner voice
quest for the third-eyes insight

Answers needed inside you’ll find
where the pure soul bares no lie
knowledge hidden from the outside
become still and thoughts will flow
waning and waxing with the moon
spark inside you like candle light.

Whispers of the inner voice
quest for the third-eyes insight

To her wisdom bind
and hear the winds gentle sigh
to her occultic visions confide
from understanding you can only grow
impregnated as the full moon
shining with fulfilled delight.

Whispers of the inner voice
quest for the third-eyes insight