Layout Provided By CodeMyLayout.com - Myspace Layouts
Myspace Layouts
CodeMyLayout.com- Get your own Myspace Contact Tables here!
center
Sitting with my back resting on a Standing Stone within a sun dappled wooded glade, watching the dying embers of a Beltane fire, Tamlin close by strumming quietly to himself,
a Stag is calling for a mate deeper within the trees, the Green Knight slowly honing a long two handed sword jokes about the times spent with Bodica and Arthur, Alfred and Harold.
Rochester and Byron emerge from the gloom arguing over a syntax whilst Dante Rossetti captures the scene in oils....A long avenue of oak leads to the glade from an ancient earthwork overlooking the wood, a fort from which Caractcus rode forth to challenge the might of Rome and from where Druids would process to perform mystic rituals.
Now a solitary Maiden makes her way along the avenue towards the glade, a low cut dress of finest silk the hem wet from trailing in the early morning dew, a belt of gold beads on gold thread hugging the waist, a belt brought back by a long forgoten ancester,spoils of war from a misguided crusade to the cradle of civilisation, a belt once worn by Cleopatra as she led the ceremonies in celebration of Ra. A light chiming accompanies her every step as the bells around her ankle brush against the uncut grass. Her dark hair stirs gently in the light breeze caressing the perfect skin of shoulders glowing in the early light. Who she is is unknown, strangely she is expected, all who see her know that once she arrives within the glade nothing will ever be the same again....Those who passed through the flames and joined the Beltane dance had long since returned to the local settlements... the Maiden starts a chant with the tune quickly picked up by Tamlin, I reach for the Bodhran and add a deft beat to Tamlin's playing and the otherworldly lyric floating around us, caressing the very air. Before long a second chant starts to break the beauty of the moment, growing ever louder, a Dozen Monks cowelled in black led by a Priest in White enter the glade, their chant reaches a crescendo as they form a perfect circle around the edges of the area. The Priest strode to the circles centre and stood before the maiden and with a raised voice he dmanded silence. The Maiden continued her song, the harmonies echoed in the wind between the trees and the brook bubbling over the pebbles. The Priest venting his fury screamed that all who stood in the way of the true path would face retribution, the embers of the fire flare answering the call striking the glade in momentery blindness on all within.As our eyes clear 12 dark Stones surround the glade a 13th, lighter in color, standing just off the centre, the Maiden laughs and is gone, a Raven soars into the early morning air. Rossetti paints on............
