of standing stones.
Magic, they said.
I knew I'd never see them standing there.
Yet deep inside, I felt their presence here.
Merlin of the wizards' pride
living somewhere deep inside their center.
Castanada never dared to dwell
within that great reality.
extinct, those mysteries.
So quiet at the bottom of the sea.
Rising now and then to try to comprehend
the nuisance of those fellows still landlocked.
Still, every now and then, they spy a maiden.
Fair of hair and eye and flush of skin.
Remembering what made the world spin.
And the power rises in them once again.
spurt of a deliverance.
Then sinking in the sea.
Feeling naught but all the weight
offending what must surely e'er be free.
Spirits of light that had sunk in the deep.
Another try. A fizzling spark that sank
too quick to light their eyes again.
Merlin, must we suffer for your sins...?
No answer waits in testament.
I lose myself within the mists - of Avalon,
still kissed by sun and moon. I circle round
the sacred hill within the light of one unearthly
moon. Chanting to our mother earth. Enclosed
within Her worth. While here, in memory,
She always answers...
? Michaelette ?
Copyright© 2003 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . .