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All Ye Pagan Clans Make Prayers for Me

Spiritual whispers of solitude sound, sufficiently formed,
Born out of the mists and the grace of this my forest place,
Where I have come to be with ye now, in the faint of your storms,
And your dreams and mine as well, will be those that we chase,

Lo, I cannot see there in the far forest that which shackles me endlessly,
Tho I love the smell of rotting brush below my feet as I walk, it arouses me,
Tainted rotting leaves and twigs, tree branches emanating nearest the sea,

All ye pagan clans come forth and sit at my side and make prayers for me.

Thom Douglas Carlisle ( Irish Tommy Moran ) - Ireland

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Exquisite as always, Sage Thom.

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Ladywind7,

Thank you so much my dear.

tommo

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thank you to everyone.