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I pray,
So seldom do I pray..
But if the gods can hear one prayer, it is this;

That you outrun the shadow.
Forever changed, not to forget,
But to be the light she recognized.
That you may recognize yourself again.
My Dear, If you were a rock, you’d be a Hagstone
And I’d wear you around my neck to ward away evils and bring me good fortune..

My Friend, If you were water  you would be a Fairy Pool
And I’d visit you, drink from you, and have revealed hidden knowledge..

My Love,  If you were a tree you’d be a Birch, The lady or the woods
And I’d keep your bark in my haversack to guarantee a spark in the most miserable conditions..

The gods saw fit to make you walk, to sweat, to bleed, to speak for this short while, as they have for me.

So instead, I’ll keep a place for you in my heart and mind, where you can come and go freely
And through every life you pass through, may you ward off evils and bring good fortune, may you reveal hidden knowledge  and guarantee a spark in the most miserable conditions.

Happy Birthday, you rare and beautiful creature.
A poem for my dear friend’s birthday. I had nothing else to offer.
Pines Druid Oct 2024
And then there are times
A memory breaks your heart
And then fades away
Pines Druid Oct 2024
I saw the Christian men, doing Christian things.
A martyr Larp for some, and yet others more genuine.

I told them I respected their courage, if not their faith.
This was not a lie. There is something admirable in conviction..

They prayed for me, hands on my shoulders..
To whom, and for what, I did not know, nor did I care.

But a man should know what he would die for, and then live for it.

These Christians are simple people but not completely without a point, nor without some warmth.

I’ve met worse Christians than these..
..They’ve met worse heathens than me.
Pines Druid Aug 2024
To crucify yourself
The universe behold
Dreams upon the shelf
Loose papers unfold

To commit arson on babel
When the gods won’t knock it down
The desire only to travel,
Where companies tyranny can’t be found

To escape the noise, however brief
The surreptitious feeling of a thief
The streams, the rocks, the trees —
these moments you steal
Sequestered, in solitude, at ease
These moments are real..
These moments are real.

— The End —