The stones stand quiet, stained with blood,
Heedless of Odin’s eye, Noah’s flood,
The morning of memory, the dawn of time,
Pink skies were hazy, light eyes sublime,
The chants they rose up, mountains shook,
The tales fantastic, old Gods they took,
They took the children, they took the old,
They took the mothers and heroes bold,
To the land of Faerie, the land of song,
Our souls remember bright Tir Na Nog,
Cernunnos and Mother Danu,
Father Nuada, Ceridwen, Lleu,
The fair Arawn and Dagda, kind,
As noble Bridget can still remind,
Time goes backwards, forever on,
And what’s remembered is never gone,
The stained blood still beats through our veins,
Our light eyes wonder at what remains,
We read the poems, we walk the hill,
We celebrate the high days still,
And the Land of Faerie isn’t far away,
It lies in dreaming, still young today,
Where The Green Man sits on his forest throne,
And The Morrigan still calls her own.
JDoyle
