[Eadha Deora]

David Whyte whispers in my head about belonging,
and hiraeth humming just below the surface
in conversation with his words, like slow sure feet of fate,
the fate that leads you to face the heart without choice.

Too much talk and not enough conversation.

These villages and the Welsh mountains
have their hands full with me, dropping
down stories into the inner cup of imagination
one at a time,

frozen feelings come to life in the telling,
and for now, listening is enough for me,
the presences seeping under my skin,
imperceptibly soaking into the blood.

One day, my cup will overflow, flooding
the valleys like a glacier turned to spring
and then, then fate will have triumphed
as the heart becomes her own queen,
dipping pen into berry ink mingled with blood,
tears and the wild mountain streams.

There will be no happiness for the heart
but to loosen my tongue and sing.

[Vorcla]

Originally Posted by Eadha Deora;

One day, my cup will overflow, flooding
the valleys like a glacier turned to spring
and then, then fate will have triumphed
as the heart becomes her own queen,
dipping pen into berry ink mingled with blood,
tears and the wild mountain streams.

God.......