Patrick William Kavanagh

Rookie (26/02/1957 / Dublin)

Dance Of The Faeries

I gaze out at the frosty winter scene from my little bubble of warmth,
The golden tint of morning touches skies of baby blue, framing trees and bushes wrapped in winter-white.
In my mind I see the faeries dance and fly amongst the trees,
A prayer that masquerades as song, is softly playing, and I feel at ease.

Were the faeries simply woodland creatures they would be at rest this barren winters day,
Bare of leaf and fruit, the trees can still provide a glorious scene in which our tiny kin can play,
And still, They speak to me and fill my eyes with beauty and the memories of a summers day,
and as Osiris rises, just a little stronger, I can feel his call to pray.

We're not just blood and bone, Our gods are not just effigies in gold and stone,
Beauty lies within, and lies without, our spirits call us to a higher place,
Of that I have no doubt.
Lift your faces from the earth, your Mother bears you up so you may gaze in wonder at the skies,
Lift your heart and realise that you are loved, and you will never truly die.

Submitted: Sunday, June 30, 2013
Edited: Thursday, July 25, 2013
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New Holland

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