Treen

Looking towards Treen Oct 2008

We are standing on the battlements of Treen

One night, with moon full, pregnant with life,

Not a breath of wind, spellbound.

Distant sounds trail back and forth across the headland,

Winding up the veined valleys, cresting the tops,

Brushing the rocks that gaze across the concourse

Rising proud against the shadowed night.

And they are numinous still,

Eastern heads lifting to the glinting lights In distant coves,

While deep in mounds of earth, souls sleep silent,

Quickening in their slumber as they dream.

And mighty Morgawr, curled on his seat of storms,

Death and memory like the sea swirling and breaking in his thoughts,

Gigantine, his body, curled and tattooed, plays out a siege 
Against the men of means.

And they have eaten his sacred words.

And they have had their fill of sweetness.

And more -  green and sunset flushed we see, beyond far outstretched Bolerium,

Beyond the pulpit rock beckoning towards Pen-von-las,  Britannia. 
Resolutely swift, striding the cliffs, skirts billowing,

Tresses trailing deep in the darkened waters.

Seductive and secretive, nubile and ancient, maid and hag,

She is the mother and whore to the  dark-eyed seaman,

Mother and whore to the ancient tin miner; mellifluous and sweet

She sings her siren song.

And with mind of eye, with height and stature,
With mystic portent, we glimpse ancient Emain Ablach,
Liminal land, holding against converging seas.
And Manannan, weaving court in midsummer,
Asks of the women, who, with their silken threads
Join in the game of the woven dance, 
'Do you recall the palimpsest?
Give to Bran a rowan tree, let him clasp the silver apple branch, 
With blossoms white and leaves of green.
Sing to him a song no poet yet has chanted'. 

And the words are myriad, the workmanship of souls.

I sing to the ocean of past and future.

I sing to the night and all that is holy.

I sing to the mourners who gather in grief.

I sing to the saint as he exalts the almighty.

As he stands in transcendence reaching alone on his windblown island,

That glorious moment amongst seagulls and spume.

This is my moment - I defy you to see...