BlindBrotherHod

To many inane words and inane worlds

Saxon dreams

165 mph winds

The old Gods are old

And people talk to me of a calling

space and time are simply tools of our mind

Virtual

Guiding me home through the dark

A whole new world to explore

Today the village marched to the war memorial, accompanied by brass band; the standards were lowered, the names of the glorious dead were read, the Last Post was played.

Searching sky and earth from edge to edge

Two minutes is not enough

Plagiarism; I wish I could claim to have written this:

I say the names of my deities,

I feel the drop of each sound into silence that glistens in the coming dark.

In the deep spaces of my birth and dying, my soul-song sings, midnight of the newborn sun.

She wears away the boundaries of my skin, seeping in to claim me for the flux of Spirit

Mother of all our naming

I open the door, and the gods enter

The gods enter the dark interior of my being

The breeze comes, the breeze that sews the worlds together.

http://alisonleighlilly.com/blog/2011/gods-and-spirit/

The one tree has lost its leaves, the colours of reconciliation 

Rhythm of the what the fuck crow

Jack Frost came and brought his ravens with him