The White Spring – Glastonbury poem

 

On the threshold into blackness,
Hear the waters, smell incense on the air,
Darkness beckons – dare,
To enter.

Vast cavern, embracing chamber,
Candlelight ripples, pools consciousness,
Pathways to providence,
To enter.

Deep in the well, stare into water,
where mystery dwells, follow the track,
Flips under, over and back
To enter

Into the gateway, otherworld bidding,
Time shifting altar, Seasons of day to day,
The King of the Realm of Fae,
To enter.

Wildwood Lord, strength of stag,
Graceful yielding to treasure within,
The heartbeat of Nature,
To enter.

Upstream, a salmon’s step, calls deeper, deeper,
Living hazel bower, holding Brigit’s Fire
To incite, inflame, desire,
To enter.

Peace of rushing water, Memory remains,
hidden in veins, quickening blood,
A fervent flood,
To enter.

The waters pull, impassioned call,
Deep cold cauldron, The Lady of Avalon,
Waters of purification,
To enter.

The depth of spirit, breath leaves body,
Sensation, creation, embody.
Dark, then embark into the sun,
Brand new day begun.
To Enter

In the courtyard, Ground red, Sky blue,
No thing to say, nothing to do
Just to be,
At peace in sanctuary.