April 3, 2016
by Roger Blakiston

A candle is lit in the forest of song,
Where the witches come out in the glen;
And the nightingales dance,
As if in a trance,
All watched by the spirits of men.

The faeries and elves, with the goblins and gnomes,
All join in the banquet of fun;
And a magical spell
From a bottomless well
Causes even the tortoise to run.

The witches they circle, as music is played
On the harp and the drum and the lyre;
And their potions from earth
Provide them with mirth,
That all sprites in the forest admire.

The labyrinth is walked on a carpet of leaves
As the guests are all welcomed by friends.
They link hand in hand
With the mortals from land,
As they travel the lines and the bends.

The flame from the candle is flickering with joy,
As it lights up the trees and the moon;
While the deer and the owl
Track the wolf’s happy howl
As it sings like a choir boy in tune.

And the Mother, she watches the gathering unfold;
The Goddess of earth is well pleased.
Her energy’s best
When there’s no time to rest,
Cause all of her senses are teased.

Whilst the new world implodes, the ancient lives on,
And it’s here that the truth doth belong;
For the magic and mystery,
All long-lost in history,
Is found in the forest of song.

michael mirdad