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Find for me a forgotten place
Haunted only by creatures of the wild
A retreat to rest in where the stars will shine forever
Overgrown, untended where dead may walk in dream
Unsanctified, cast out and long forgotten
By all but those who live unknown by man
With tangled growth of unnamed flowers uncounted
In seas of grass the rough hewn stones between
Imaginary blue lit by the shining golden orb
Warmth and lazy comfort transient day
Seems eternal
Trails of menace blend in and are ignored
A hoverfly rainbow shimmering wings sway
Tiny moments
High in pure enjoyment into blue a bird absorbed
Silver wings wide warm air lifts easily looks for prey
Fourteen, eighteen - far apart
Eighty four, eighty eight - same age
I was experimenting to see if I could write a ten word poem, so numbers were in my mind.
Her orifice was where I entered sleep
From there emerging into experience
She has left before me
So I am wondering

In the no-self of pre-death
Being expanded and contracted
  May 2015 Saparonia Holliday
Graff1980
Ancient words
Spoken by older bards
Golden dreams
From England’s yard
Hundred plus years apart
Still stir and inspire
This tired but now happy heart
Those stories when told well
Recommend themselves
Speak highly
Boldly
Deeply
And in them
Return ancient words
Which move me
You aren't the father of your son
His father is the other
Of one thing I am certain
That I am his mother

He was exchanged in fair trade
For unwilling contribution
They stole my unborn children
Then paid with retribution

Of this I cannot tell you
Or any of this world
The world is all illusion
I saw it all unfurled

He could conquer all of Ireland
He could rule the Egypt land
He could start the Roman Empire
Bury continents with sand

Of this I haven't spoken
To man or god or beast
To friend or foe because I know
What is to be his geist

His geist is told to noone
They told me in my dream
Of a gift ne'er can be given him
Or ne're 'gain will he be seen

So be his father well my love
Give to him your heart
And I will grieve forever
Long long after when we part
Cuchulain's father is said to have been one of the "gentry" which means one of the fairy folk.
Mother Earth is holding a child in her embrace
The child is unaware.
The child is watching as the world of safety crashes all around
And doesn't understand.
At that moment only Mother Earth cares for the child
And the child is unaware.
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