I stand beneath the starstrone sky,
In the darkness of the night,
A lonely hill, grey in the dark,
A darkness you can feel.
The stars the spin, they move around,
Before my wondering eyes,
Stars not fixed but thought to be,
Stars like dancing fire flies.
And spin they do, but all return,
To their course across the sky,
These pin pricks move yet stay quite still,
In the darkness of the night.
No wonder all the ancient times,
Spirits and gods they were,
Always present, always watching,
But never holding still.
Ancient secrets painted plain,
Above for all to see,
Yet few do see and less do know,
The secrets painted there.
The singing song, the lonely dance,
Of the stars in darkest night,
The tales they know, the things they’ve seen,
And no one knows it all.
Here I stand, they dance around,
I see the sacred plan,
The whirling castle, the Well of Stars,
And all that is drawn to them.
I stand beneath the starstrone sky,
In the darkness of the night,
A lonely hill, grey in the dark,
A darkness you can feel.
~Bethany "Lorekeeper" Davis, September 25, 2014