beantighe
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Feeling the SilenceSilence is green
Silence is gold
Silence is red
Silence is the drumming of the Earth's heartbeat
Heard in the stillness of the soul.
The air hums with energy.
The Lady's sweet breath caresses my cheek
With refreshing coolness,
Like the barest touch of thistledown.
I breathe in and exhale gratefully.
I bathe in the Lady's peace and grace.
All is still.
I feel the Lord, great Herne:
His presence touches me
Beyond the edge of my mortal vision,
But He is there, smiling, protecting.
I have come on pilgrimage to His domain
Seeking peace and sanctuary.
He will not fail me.
The bright Sun blesses me with His warm touch;
His fingers dappling the green raiment of the tree-kin
Who people the silent glade,
Eternal watchers, guardians at the entrance to the Otherworld.
The season is turning.
Now and then a leaf drifts lazily down from the canopy,
Coming to rest on the forest floor,
Covering the body of Mother Earth with a thick, warm blanket
In which to nurture the new life
Yet to be reborn in Spring.
And so the Wheel turns.
As one cycle ends, another is just beginning.
All is continuity.
All is silence.
The inspiration flows.
All is well.
(c) Beantighe 2002
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