Tuesday 31 July 2007

Lugh Among the People

Lugh among the people.
Deliberate, in measured steps,
approaching the great circle
leading the people to pray, with the sound of brass trumpets;
Priest or Poet, calling us each to his own, filling our hearts
with the beat of a bodhrán and the sound of the pipes made of thorn
I am the dancer, lost in the rhythm of nature, dancing on the edge
of the world, swinging out over chasms of infinity
lit only by the icecold stars.
Singing a song I heard somewhere
mourning the loss of a woman
of infinite love. I am the Creator of words.
I am the Fiddler. I am the moment when Summer ends,
yet still the sun beats down and the Earth yields.
I am the paradox, of Autumn beginning.


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