Personal mythology

 

When I was a teen
I had a personal mythology
Every place in the wood
Had got a special authority
There was a virgin sky that I had to name
Not only fairies among bushes and in the rain

Every corner had
Its own inhabitants and powers
So I could go there
When I was sad or simply tired
And only wind could know the secret of my Land
And ‘til today nobody knows about these facts

And in these days before summer 
I count what is remained into this man 
Now it is almost Beltane 
Melancholy of the past times it is my friend 
... it’s whispers in my head 
... it’s poetry in my pen 
... it’s spirituality from my Land 

Celtic Stone is where
The future could be acknowledged
Meditation Point
To catch the message of universe
The Sacred Pool to bless my little frightened soul
My only home was the perfumed holy wood

Every feast of the wheel
Had an altar to be celebrated
As I had the Ireland map
To discover the ancient wells

Serenity Place was the cradle of the wood
On the Dark Stones I could sing odes to moon

And in these days before summer 
I count what is remained into this man 
Now it is almost Beltane 
Melancholy of the past times it is my friend 
... it’s whispers in my head 
... it’s poetry in my pen 
... it’s spirituality from my Land