Old English word
For the power that lives within
The spirit that defines the shell
Of the beetle in the pine
The wheedle in the wine
My brothers and sisters sailing
Through temporal stations
On the cross of
Old English word
Defining the power within
All that breathe and all that cleave
From the source of all that ever was
In the beginning when
Adam loved Eve
In the innocence
Under the tree of
Old English word
Protecting the roots of my Pagan past
Slithering across the bogs and moors
Inhabiting my ancestral
Lost and gone into the vapors of
That was born of Man
Not Magick

This poem appeared in the August 2013 issue of Fresh Ink, the journal of the California Writers Club, Inland Empire Branch.