Ever ancient one,
Winged One
You who sail
Beyond the chime
Of the wind,
Who enfold
The rings
Of magic beings,
You who fly
Between the lands of the stars,
Who know
The heart within all things,
Even the patterns on the tossed jars,
Of years swept out to sea
By the glinting rush of rivers,
You who climb
With the innocent
Feet
Of the flock
Of goats on the worn hill,
Who shine as the whispering of pale
Gold
Flowers,
As the fleet
Dance of the sacred waters,
Among the holy stones at daybreak,
Pure being,
Winged soul of time
And eternity,
You are ever the light within
The gathered shawl
Of the deepening sky,
Ever the wind set loose on the lapping
Indigo
Lake,
Ever the echo
Of the silver swans whose call
Sings
Still
Within the lily
Of spring
Through the open
Window
In the rock.
© Sharon St Joan, 2021
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