I found
myself in a large cave, and my goddess, who as you may know is also my muse,
was looking every inch a faery queen. Her beauty always leaves me breathless.
She seemed to be wearing a circlet of pearls woven into a silver band made from
many fine strands. The strands of silver seemed to branch out from the core and
formed interweaving spirals, between the pearls. Her ebony hair flowed down
into the shadows and her deep brown eyes filled my mind with half-forgotten
memories of sun-drenched foliage and warm moist air.
“You
have not visited us for a while”, She said softly. Her voice seemed to carry
concern and a faint hint of humour at the same time. “I have been writing”, I
said, defensively. “Sit down!” she said, and I noticed a plush sofa. As I sat,
I felt a bony knuckle rap against the crown of my head. Looking up, I realised
that she had changed personas. She was the ancient crone. Grey hair was tied
into a scraggy bun with what looked like a leather thong and her perfect
cheekbones stretched against the weather-beaten skin of her face. “You foolish
child! how can you write anything of true value if you do not listen to your
heart? You have wasted your valuable time in fretting about popularity and
promoting your books! Listen and learn!”
I felt
her bony fingers touch my forehead as the scenery faded and memory drew me back
through time. I found myself at an age when age does not matter, and sitting on
the floor in my maternal grandmothers flat in Ringsend, Dublin. All around me
were treasures. Tiny little glass bottles of many colours and shapes. She had
taken them from the glass cabinet for me to play with. I was totally engrossed in the reflection of
light through the bottles and the feel of the cool hard glass. Some were thick
clear, uneven glass that distorted everything like a hall of mirrors as I
looked through them. The glow of sunlight through the window shone golden
through the amber vials. The green flasks made the room look colder and darker.
Even on a summer’s day, the fire was lit and I could recognise the unforgettable
smell of turf burning. Life was simple and safe. I was too young for fear or
anticipation and my past had barely begun. I sensed, rather than understood, my
grandmother’s love and her satisfaction in seeing me playing with her
collection of old glass containers.
I felt a
touch on my forehead and I was back in the ornate cave. Flaming red hair framed
her vibrant green eyes and billowed about my goddess, then swept down and
around a flowing robe of green as she danced and swirled. “Write for me! She
commanded. I felt puzzled. She laughed. “You are sitting at your laptop, aren’t
you?” Suddenly I am here and looking back at what I have written. Have I been
dismissed? I suppose I must relax and see what it is that I must write. I
decide to make a cup of tea first, and I can hear her giggle somewhere in the
back of my mind, so I know that she is still very near. While the kettle boils,
I search for an image to inspire me. Do I have one as beautiful as her flaming
red hair and laughing eyes? It hardly matters to a goddess with a thousand
faces. I choose a picture to match my mood then sit and wait for inspiration as
I sip my tea. The first few lines are granted, and I begin.
My Lady Moon
Within that world, where ancient mysteries lie, unshared
with few, except the brave.
I walk the sacred path, determined that I keep the
promises I made.
I had sworn that I would live a life that was devoted to
the truth and to the Fae.
I had promised I would strive to live my brand-new life,
immersed in magic every single day.
A childlike heart is wont to stray within this night-time
world of loving Fae.
Where fireflies flit between the flowering moonlit trees
to guide your way
I stretch my mind to fill my senses with the beauty of
this glowing aerial display,
For, soon I must return to all the trials and all the
complications of the day.
I will walk the lonely path of mankind’s world and spend
each moment longing for my kin.
I will count each weary day until my promise is fulfilled
and I return again.
Here among the dancing trees where laughter floats on
every floral scented breeze,
I will rest a little while, and I will find my smile
again, among the flowers and bees.
Join me! - If you dare, in my sweet world where children
dance and sing without a care.
Walk the starlit path that shines down from the moon and
weaves between the trees.
Here, in the woodland glade, where lovers promises are
made beneath her silver light.
My Lady moon will take you to a world where all is love
and all is pure delight!
Patrick W Kavanagh
12/12/2015
Art by Bill Oliver
boysoblue.com
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