Sacred Grove

[J. Michael Robertson]

Blessing Elven Song

Sacred Grove

 

Ancient oaks,

Clad in the moon’s silver gleaming,

And kissed by the cold of the earth,

You are the high priests of the forests,

While the warrior pines stand guard and

lift, menacingly, spear shafts to the moon.

 

Mysterious oaks,

Holy in astral fires of the Goddess,

Lighted for broken things that seek your shade to die,

Horned Cernunos, master of the dance of life,

Intones in you his ageless canticles of death and rebirth:

"Renew! Renew! Renew!"

 

Silver oaks,

Speechless orators of the Old Ones,

Beloved by poet-druids and elves,

Beneath your high templed domes of shade

Our star-songs softly caress the fading night

And echo in bells of jasmine.

 

Pale oaks,

Silent keepers of stories unread,

Drenched in the light of stars

Born in the dim eternities of aeons,

Do you ponder the dust of endless ancestors

Lost to the memory of men?

 

Gray oaks,

Lift crowns veiled in sparkling mist

To the heaven's salmon blaze;

Fling wide resplendent mantles

Of lush greens and soft grays,

To greet each dawn’s glory.

 

Golden oaks,

Spirit-halls for gatherings of souls

Crossing at last the Bridge of Days,

Beauty sleeps around you upon a couch of perfume,

Jeweled by dew, vestured in drifting shade,

Serenaded by the muted melodies of marsh and sea.

 

Southern oaks,

Mansions of moss in the day’s divine unveiling,

Stand beside yellow rivers lazily seeking the sea.

Beneath your cloistered arches the Lord of Morning

softly steals in robes of gold and rose,

and one-by-one  puts the stars to sleep.

[Arethinn aTinderel]

Oh, very nice.

[J. Michael Robertson]

Thank you :)

[Tara]

Wow, very evocative and beautiful, I'm right there!