by Scarlett de Courcier

Created on: July 28, 2009

Lift a corner of the veil,
To unchartered waters sail,
Hear the seven sirens wail
"By the rocks begone!"

Scratch thy pen on alder fair,
Pass the belladonna's lair
Drink of sap and maiden's hair,
Venus lingers on.

To thy self, thy house be true
Free of style, opaque of hue
With thine eyes read waters blue,
And know when to conceal.

Bright of smile and bite of bark
Oak he builds a fearsome ark
Blackthorn-whipped and flinten-sharp;
Dragons' dust congealed.

Red of ink and black of page,
Sea of salt and air of sage,
Ring of fire, obsidian mage,
Lair unfound, occult.

Through the woods to carve a path;
Forests where the pixies laugh;
Banshee folk who live their art
In silent sweet revolt.

Know of self what self does know
Be the place where others go
Wind whips willow, waters flow
Sun dances bright through year.

Walk the child across the path,
Skip the cloak that muffs the laugh,
Show thyself thy face of wrath,
To infrequent appear.

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