Doing some world building. A song the Tuatha de Danann in one of my worlds, sing at funerals. Drink with me to life now past A weave yet bound and freed to joys once sung that could not last Though they ever stand to read. The mists now call, the guide awaits And the captive… Read More Edge of the Mists
This might have been better for Memorial Day, but it came to me this morning. I hope you enjoy it. It has a happier ending than most of the things referencing the name. Standing at the gate, a laser in his hand The last of the defenders makes a final stand. Armor counts for little… Read More At Tannhauser Gate
Sometimes the most powerful act is keeping the lights lit so someone can see their way home. One drop, two drop, three drops, four Drops of rain upon the door, Drops of rain in bitter cold As hope itself is growing old. Old though hope can ever grow The cut of day comes swift to… Read More The Waiting Light
A simple working song to lighten your day. Weave the day together Unfurl it in the dawn Let nothing hope to sever Jus raise it in a song. When life should come with peril Answer it with joy. When waves grow fierce and feral A sharper song employ. Reach to find the dawning At the… Read More On Manannan’s Doorstep
In my Blackwood world, the creation myth (which is another poem here: Blade of Dawn) involves the first dawn being literally cut from the darkness. And in that world in Albion they speak of life being woven. So death is the final cut, the complete tapestry for this world looking on to the next. Drops… Read More Final Cut
