Moon Circle

It is interesting at times.
To write OF this path, without revealing this path too much.
It is not so simple, so ritualized that one knows what to expect, or that you can feel and find it all in any book.
Yet some paths must be walked directly, and must be felt as well as seen. We are at best, a quiet and shy lot.
There are some of us, like myself who show ourselves. Yet even we or I, will not show you some things.
We walk a life that is a Prayer you see. Some in solitude, and some shared. Those prayers are between us, or I, and the Creator.
We do not celebrate or pray for societies approval, so without entry, you cannot see what lies within.

Moon Circle

I stand in silent solitude.
The sun sinks slow before me
I hear the sizzling sound
Fiery orb kisses the sea.
As waves rage eloquently
Ceaselessly scrambling
To cross the boundary
Of earth and air
Darkness like a velvet cloak
Days cares fade with the light
Shorn so softly away
Lying at my feet meaningless.
Crickets mark time. Rhythmic.
The waves sound beneath.
Unwritten orchestra of life.
Lost between the worlds
Susurrations of wind brush me
Crafting shudders on skin
Secrets soft spoken within.
Alive, the stars greet me.
Like old friends
Names forgotten in time.
Lost in faded fog
Like long past souls.
Soft footfalls speak
Of bare feet easing near
The circle grows.
Laughter born of life.
Silver wrought shadows
Stray sparks of moonlight
Scurry around us
Moon rising full above
Veiled in nights deep
In places hidden
We gather delighted
In simply being alive

R.W.W.
banfiadh copyright 11/13

Witchy

Witchy.

This is for the Witches
That in their kitchen’s toil
Joy upon their faces, grinning
While their cauldrons boil.

And this is for the Hedge Witch
Who in their garden’s play
Spelling all their greenery
In the shining light of day

This is for the Shaman
Rattle in their hands
The journey past the veil
Through the spirit land

And this is for the Runewitch
Lines carved into bone
Questing for the answer
Cast within a stone.

This is for the Druid
Who walks dappled night
Tending to the forest
In touch with nature’s light

And this is for the Priestess
Who dances on the land
Brings to us the Goddess
Within her moonlit hand

This is for the wild Priest
Who in the sunlight roams
Mysteries of the Horned One
Or in a spellbound tome.

And this is for the Sidhe folk
Who watch from silent mound.
Awaiting silent questing
As the wheel turns around

This is for the Goddess
Who in the world abounds
Ecstasy of life is hers
Peace with her is found

And this is for the God
Within the Hunters blood
That watches in the shadow
From in the silent wood

This is for the knower’s
And the doer’s of the world
Those who walk the boundary
So oft’ misunderstood.

And this is for the Magick
That we find within
When we stop to listen
For the voice beyond the din

This is for the Blessed
Those who hear creations call.
Working for weaving
That connects us all.

R.W.W
Banfiadh copyright 11/13

Was not Was – Tentative

Is it poetry or prose?
I guess it does not matter one whit.
It is simply something that I am crafting.
Enjoying the play of words and paradoxical phrases.
An excerpt as it is, from a story that nearly writes itself.
A pause I’ve taken from it, yet here is the start of a possibility.
Yet it is a story, a story to tell and it is my story to tell and mine alone.
Enjoy.

Was Not Was – an excerpt.

Sit a spell and listen, while I weave a tale of eternity. A tale as it were; of nothing and everything. It is a tale of light and dark of love and fear and all things in between. From the shadowed plains of nothing from long before time was perceived across the vast wilderness of then, until now. For this is a tale of creation. A true tale or as true as any other may be and it is a tale of love. Yet there is a difference in truths for this is not a hand me down story of assembled bits and pieces, but one of trial and hurt, hope and love, fear and joy and yes, yes my children, of enduring love throughout all. I have lived this tale over and over again and I am so very tired, yet I live it this one last time in hope.

Beyond the pale of time, far before the thing called man arose. Before the water parted and land rose. Before the birth of stars and generation of planets there was, and is, and remains; nothing. Void. The Void was a vast and formless formation of scintillating but very dull gray. Yet to define it as a color is a trite fault, for there was nothing yet there to witness it, or to decide if it was gray, or perhaps the only thought close enough to describe what was there echoed backwards from somewhere that could not exist. It was black or perhaps it was white. More likely it hung silent like the soft fuzz of gray mist draped languorously over an endless gray sea. I tell you though, that in that nothing was something. Something yet undefined, unknown. For untold lifetimes, beyond the measure of a dying star the gray existed idle, doing nothing, seemingly stagnant, entropic and lifeless. In the still vast silence of neverwhere the nothing thrummed.

Eventually and of its own accord, or through some unseen motion or force indefinable the gray became striated, separating. Slowly redefining its existence through no fault or will of its own it changed. Perhaps it was the lack of motion pulling it apart, categorizing this as that or that as this. Or perhaps motion was just beginning and so stirred the gray like a vast cauldron of muck, causing various nothings to separate into two finely indistinct planes of nothing. They lay as vast expanses of nothing becoming something reaching far beyond an imagination that as yet, was unperceived. Or perhaps they were spheres lying aligned, each occupying the same space the other was, and was not; with no space in between, yet there was space. Space enough for separation to begin. The separations should sound familiar, for across all time and no time the basic understanding of those wondrous facets remains the same. As above reflected below, something, nothing and anything compressed. The Dark and the Not Dark, and The Light and the Not Light and the non-existent space that lay fine and terrible between, simply came to be. Silence ruled.

Time? Time did not exist yet. There was no thing to define time. No reference point of existence. No clock ticking slowly upwards or down, sideways or across. No measure and no meaning to yet call anything resembling time. I tell you though, in time another awesome and improbable thing occurred. A Wyrding, an unknown occurrence or happening, beyond our perception. Whether through design or accident awesome, profound and terrible the unknown happened. Through expansion or an inward turning something changed, and as it changed something woke. It woke not in the sense of a traveler waking, stretching heavy arms towards a dawning light, head tilted back with a mighty yawn. Nay I tell you, no such thing was yet to occur. Within these spheres however, twin thoughts echoed mightily. Stirring the very stuff of the universe that could not possibly exist and echoed between the two what could only be called a thought was shared. I am. We Are. One though yet divergent, two; though inextricably intertwined.

Silence

A raven sat beside me

In silence for a time

Lost in silent company

Heartbeats pacing rhyme

Words flow often freely

Yet oft lost behind the din

Touch of feelings flowing

From the calm that lies within

In the haste of learning

There comes a silent cost

Can one sit within the quiet

Without spirit feeling lost?

Frantic haste fades slowly

With no fraught anxiety

Trust is growing wholly

Replacing fear sown seed

Joy the easy flow of words

Yet I love the silence true

And raven sat beside me

As I sat in silence too

Banfiadh copywrite 2005

Pagan Harmony

Sacred ground and sacred rite

Skyclad bodies dancing round

Blazing fire on Bealtine night

Power building until unbound

Blessed Goddess, Great Horned God

Come to us this sabatt night

Herne the Hunter and Arianrhod

Dance with us till dawning light

Spiral in then spiral out

A greeting kiss a knowing nod

Magick flows round all about

Woven ribbons round Maypole rod

A circle cast a circle danced

Laughing, chanting glowing flight

Power seen by witch’s glance

Silvered beings in bright moonlight

Ancient ones and ancient ways

Gnomes and Drakes, Slyphs and Undines

Bring us fertile sunlit days

Unshod feet trace ancient lines

Lead us on the Spiral path

Dance up the crops in summers time

Newfound wisdom to help us laugh

Harvests bounty and Autumn wine

Young winsome lass and gracious mother

Be grateful child for Goddess’ love

Yet the crone claims all like a long lost mother

As the God of summer thunders above

Winter, spring, summer and fall, silver wheel turns them all

God of Horns protects and watches

Birth, life, death and rebirth the path laid for us all

As the fates weave the matches

Fall is past and winters come

Live joyously and honestly

As another turn of the wheel is done

An it harm none so mote it be

Life comes again as spring draws near

Love Of Goddess, now let it be

Love the Goddess, now let it be

Love each other as she loves thee

And heed well children

The living dance of Harmony

banfiadh copywrite 1996

Angelic Voice, version 2

Have you ever heard thunder on a cloudless sunny day?

Never have you heard a sound that took your breath away?

Have you ever heard the ticking of ancient timeless clock?

Then you heard the music that caused all time to stop?

When walking down the road of pain alone there came a gentle rain

Thrust through heart like daggers, releasing spirit from its chain?

 

I have.

 

Have you never touched another from a lifetime far away

With bitten lip and lilting sigh that begged to come and play

Within the core, deep inside a child lays bound to neglects lock

Silenced alone in misery while crying silent destiny is shocked

Have you ever heard the sound of life’s most cleansing rain

The crying sound of angel’s voice when she’s released from pain?

 

I Have

 

Banfiadh copywrite 2005

Two Worlds

Two Worlds

 

One foot here and one foot there.

Places seen where most don’t dare.

The side that sees the winding road

And one that guides the brush.

 

Iron cage and bracelet links

Just aint my cup of tea.

Wish the motherfuckers

Would stop and let me be.

 

Live my life my own way

An’ try to tread on none.

Swing the blade of vengeance

Disguised in artistry.

 

What really does it matter

If I choose to wear a lid.

Life is never safe you see,

No matter what you did.

 

I ride because I have to,

Wind between my teeth

Art the guise that mirrors soul

And what resides in me.

 

Soul that never bowed

To staid conformity

Heart that beats, reddened

Wildly and free.

 

Ride alone or with another.

Miles beneath my feet.

Wind and water, fire and earth

Keeps me in that seat.

 

Paid those dues and all the rest

And pay em twice again.

Not quite crossing far enough

For life in souless pen.

 

Walk along the razor line.

One hand upon the blade.

Touch the knife to taste the ink

In which a life is laid.

 

I ride because of wild love

For places I haven’t been.

High among the peaks

And low across the land.

 

Keep the gas tank full

Leathers close at hand

Through the rainy morning

Or burning sunlit grand.

 

I ride because I have to

Fly both swift and free

Roving like the ancients

Across the lands unseen.

 

So lay me in the corners,

fast and flying low.

Upon an open endless road

Destination long unknown.

 

Banfiadh – copywrite2009

Faith

The morning trickles by languidly

Indolent seconds hand crawls, eyeless

Scribed in winsome remembrance

Soft treasures measured in rhapsody

Rebellious in reluctance of motion

Eternities die upon an eyelash dewdrop

Framed by golden halos in cerulean prism

Time captured, waits idly upon the shelf

Each moment distilled from priceless memory

Gleaned from precious moments spent with you

Words and thoughts flow in symphony

Brush’s dancing across invisible canvas

Seeking true form and shape of moments past

They glide swiftly ahead seeking true form

Restlessly awaiting our tomorrow’s

Breath parting waiting lips

Eternity poised upon finger tips

Future memories unfold in ecstasy

Within the moments dreaming

 

banfiadh copywrite Sep2012

Journey

Visions of her wake me daily with a smile

Though some roads remain yet to cross

The vast expanse of hope spreads before

Radiant in the presence of rebirth

 

Thoughts of this one lift the burdens of life

From battle scarred and weary shoulders

Dawn by dusk the journey draws ever shorter

Life the scent that leads wayfarer on

 

Though life has certain fragility’s through time

Trust builds the path I believe I follow

Slow solid and with rising confident pace

Long traveled steps devour the homebound way

 

Though I fear little the journeys end

Though the lord of shadow’s were to wait

For this I would forfeit lives of the future

For the simple touches of a new existence

 

Far better to try then to run from fears of past

For only in the steps of self belief can one live

The past settles slowly in the western sea

Greeted and tempered by the first gleam of dawn

 

Banfiadh2007

Mothers Plea

Can you hear my lost children, through the noise of your machines?

Do you see what you are doing as the world around you screams?

The cancer of your avarice has spread throughout my spirit.

It’s reflected in your bodies as diseases take your dearest.

You think you can deny me and it’s your death that’s truly near.

Don’t you realize wayward children that I’m not what you should fear?

Yet you seek to see yourself apart from the flesh that gives you life

And think quite mistakenly that you’re beyond the cost of strife.

Mounds of Stone hacked from my flesh in which you hide your eyes

You Mother ground beneath you yet you seek the sky for lies.

You pillage from my body sustenance for souls desires

And you burn my fragile skin with chemically wrought fire

You’ve tapped the blood stream deep within and smiled on the way

Still you seek to consume it all with no thought to repay.

Life reflects in cycles round, through which your spirit flows

Yet you’ve turned away from things of which you need to know.

Turned your face away from me though a few still hold the keys

I wait for you to return to me on green skirted weary knees

Invented Gods supplant me though all things have I provided

Upon a world of decaying hate your civilization stands divided

You quibble like lost children over morsels or tawdry bits of skin

In blind greed you destroy the home I am, this is your greatest sin.

All things I’ve set before you although your priest’s deny

To think that one who never hears loves you, simply makes me sigh

Yet will you heed the warnings loud now that Ire is born

Will you understand the words, that drive the coming storm

Without me my lost children, no life you’d ever had.

I care not what you call my Lord but your Mothers getting mad.

So please my children heed me and turn from your wicked ways.

The life you think you thought you’d built has reached its final days.

Yet there are still those few among you who seek a better way

Turn away from your greed and let your hearts come out to play

Banfiadh – copywright 2007

Forever unsaid

Sounds of distant thunder

echo through the hills

She’s nothing but a memory

passing under rolling wheels.

 

Trouble fades behind me

as I wander through the land

She is buried in the past now

beyond times shifting sands

 

Alive my soul is flying

life travelled like a leaf

Memories are the treasures

in the past of disbelief

 

Trails through the travels

as time is but a thief

Life is for the living

marked by stones of buried grief

 

Let the engine roll on

as I fly within the sound

Wind sweeps all the cares away

and freedoms to be found

 

High upon the wings of hope

With tomorrow still unfound

Shes buried in the memories

In forgotten sacred ground.

 

Passing through the sunlight

As the shadows ride away

The future is tomorrow

Fading into yesterday

 

The lines upon the highway

Fade beyond the sorrows shade

Her memory a tear track

Where memories are made.

 

The sounds of echoed thunder

Rolling far across the land

Tomorrow is behind me

In the shadow of the sand

 

Silence is the graveyard

In which ones heart is laid

And the journey travels onward

With forever still unsaid.

 

banfiadh2011

 

 

 

House of Beauty and Death

House of Beauty and Death.

So much beauty here.

This death trap – towering walls.

Waiting . . waiting for the end.

Arid, dry . . falsely green and living.

Life is desperate, at any time.

 

And change is but the blink of an eye.

From a long slow death to sudden dying.

A flash of light . . then nothing.

While the world will not end

The world we believe exists will.

Suddenly.

 

We delude our selves.

Of our birthright supremacy

Opposable thumb and luck

Yet our spirit dwindles

Fades into self wrought

Oppression

 

Time and again through history.

Humans rise and humans fall.

Death or survival.

A chance at life, or a lingering death.

And I watch, screaming silent,

as the world of hope dies.

 

A future unwritten in silence

As a future archeologist ponders

Who were they

Ancestors or failed experiment

Do you ever sit and dream

Staring at the stars

In broad daylight?

 

Banfiadh copywrite 2012

Freedom.

It is not something that can be given, yet can easily be taken away.

It is something that can not be forced upon another, or it becomes a form of slavery.

Freedom does not grow from handing control over your life to another. It can crumble in an idle moment of laziness.

While Freedom may be a basic ‘Human Right”, it belongs only to those responsible enough to ensure it’s longevity.

Freedom can not be defined for another person, but must be mutually respected.