Friday 12 April 2013

Seven Stones

Seven Stones
By Muninn's Kiss

I know of seven stones,
Seven altars from long ago,
That stand forevermore,  
A barren stone upon a hill,
An altar that's lichen grown,
An icy stone in a valley fair,
An altar that's deathly cold,
A flat worn stone where two roads cross,
A wind swept altar stone,
A granite stone that's oak leaf strewn,
An altar covered in leaves,
A stone that's deep beneath the ground,
An altar of iron strength,
A stone that's high as the very stars,
An altar that's burning bright,
And a stone that stands at the world's own centre,
An altar made of dust.

I know of seven fires,
Seven flames so bright,
And burn upon the stones,
A green, green flame upon a hill,
That burns in a secret place,
A blue, blue flame in a valley fair,
The time of it's lighting lost,
A white, white flame where two roads cross,
A flame to light the way,
A red, red flame among oak leaves,
A flame that's passion's own,
A deep, deep flame that glows like coals,
A flame that heats the world,
A pale, pale flame that's high above,
In a black well cold as space,
A live, live flame that glows within,
A heart within the dust.

I know of seven breaths,
Seven winds so strong,
That blow to fan the flames,
A howling wind across a hill,
A lonely, howling wind,
A storming wind in a valley fair,
A roaring, storming wind,
A raging wind where two roads cross,
A raging, endless wind,
A rolling wind rustling oak leaves,
A rolling, rambling wind,
A solid wind beneath the ground,
A solid, steady wind,
A stellar wind in the very stars,
A stellar, solar wind,
A living wind that was breathed in,
An offering in the dust.

I know of seven wells,
Seven fountains the flow,
That wash the altars clean,
A mountain spring and a mountain stream,
That carves a path below,
A valley spring and a valley stream,
Where grazing herds do drink,
A river slow and a canal bold,
That waters fields and crops,
A passionate spring and a treasured stream,
Among the hills of oak,
A well so deep and a stream so dark,
That flows beneath the ground,
A glistening stream and a river white,
High above all else,
A spring so warm and a stream of blood,
Wetting the altar or dust.

Round and Round the Ash Tree

Round and Round the Ash Tree
By Muninn's Kiss

Round and round the ash tree we go,
Have you ever seen such a sight?
The old gods laugh and the new ones delight,
At long blind dance of man.
This becomes that and that becomes this,
But what was it all before?
What once was old for now is new,
But what was new now is old.
Two brothers they fought and soon lost the fight,
Or did it say that they won?
Three wisemen came dress all as kings,
Or was it three women in rags?
Seven lords ruled in old Sumer,
But nine they were in the North.
Twelve gods sat in the halls of Olympus,
But who was the Thirteenth they called?
An old man sits up on a throne and cries,
There's nothing new under the sun.
The youth just laughs and thinks it's a joke,
For he knows all things are new.
But round and round the ash tree we dance,
Have you ever seen such a sight?
The old gods laugh and the new delight,
As the telephone rings again.