Blackthorn's Rune

By the way of the little wood
where once the faerie hill fort stood
then on the hip of the stream that winds
and through the mist of the root that binds
by the pool, by the stone
where the wild stag comes alone
in the black the raven’s wing
in the lays the salmons sing
beneath the blackthorn’s groaning bough
upon the hill’s moon crusted brow
and with the owl’s swift decree
then it is I’ll come to thee
when all is not as it would seem
and the wind speaks through a dream
and the fire is in the sea
then it is I’ll come to thee
not by storm nor by flame
yet by the way the darkness came…
In the dawning’s star pale light
in the need fire’s embers bright
when the earth grip has your bones
and the wind your dying moans
then it is I shall appear
like the shadows creeping near
dreaming seeded in my womb
flaming arrows from my loom
when the moon cup crowns the hill
and the reeds are blowing still
wait by the magick apple tree
there it is I’ll come to thee
When all is not as it has been
and the truth is as the dream
when the sword at last is free
then it is I’ll come to thee
not by storm, nor by flame
yet by the way the darkness came