"And the words of the prophet are written on the subway walls and tenement halls ---" Sounds of Silence
Adder and the Ley, from every stone on the way. How Silence screams
these days to deaf Minds.
I was born in a Prophets Robes and
as a young child walked many the night. In the future like an
invisible specter of no light.
Watched both Man and Nature
rain Death and Destruction of horrible proportions on the lands of
Man. Visions no Druid Child could ask of their oh so much younger
parents to explain or understand.
Sadly as I grow older I
learned the signs I had seen were all correct for some of Man's worst
madness and Nature's cruel cleansing.
And yes I have lived to
see many of them come true, studied the N.B.C. ways of War with the
madness of the Marines. Lost count of body bags and the
Souls. That just a day before walked tall and upright. Full of hope
and Death's black light.
bitter question I must ask. In this Moot of our ancient
As a Druid do you honor the Prophets Robes and let
his crimson words fall from you bitten lips?
The line of the old haunting song reminded me, as I look into Druid groups that together members number in the thousands.
So many Druids Rapping and Yapping in Muddy Moots.
That where are those that have ridden the futures boats?
There are no Prophets among us, Shaking loudly the sacred Bell.
Bloody words dripping from their bitten lips as in their dreams they had tried not to scream .
Lest the Future hear and snuff them out as Fates Sisters nail them on the Wheel of Spin.
Or am I wrong and Druids are no longer Prophets ?
Yes I can think of one or two at the New Year take a spin, but nothing that brings Kings and Princes on blended knee. To honor and hear a ragged Druid under the old Oak tree.
The Druid King
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