Outside a measure of coolness has at last come. The heavy radiating heat no longer pressing down on my mind. It is as if a veil has lifted from my mind.
I am the son of Poetry,
Poetry, the son of Reflection
Reflection, son of meditation,
Meditation, son of Lore,
Lore, son of Research,
Research, son of Great Knowledge,
Great Knowledge, son of Intelligence,
Intelligence, son of Comprehension,
Comprehension, son of the three gods of Dana.
* Immacallam in da Thuarad (The Colloquy of the Bards) *Dana, the Mother Goddess
In the stillness between,
in the quiet instant,
there lies a treasure beyond compare,
a song of piercing beauty,
penetrating the deepest secret chamber of my soul.
Within dusk and dawn arise subtle hues
memories of the night
Possibilities of the dawning day.
Within the breathless moment,
I hear, I see, I feel, touch the moment of infinity,
in quiet wonder I know the miracle of being.
Grateful tears fertilise the waiting soils of my soul.