Druid’s Tale

Come gather round
The fire of sound
Draw forth the knife
Fear no strife
From soul bled
Spirit led
Drop upon the fire thee
Invoke what one might see
From fire come forth
Spirits of the north
Tell the tale of ancient might
Tell the tale of ancient sight
Far away in glowing mist
Distant island far amiss
High king and champions stand
Roots of magic within the land
Upon the mound of Severed Heads
Hungry god whom he fed
Time of lust
Of much disgust
Drove all to hate and slay
Oh so insecure was each day
Fed and led
Spirit of dread
Survival invoked spirit
Attack any threat near it
Half of a whole
Souls he stole
Upon one night
Deep ritual sight
King and champions stand
Powerful ritual cast upon the land
Night glow was whole
Storm winds blow
Leaves of blood and fire
Ecstasy filled desire
River of sacrifice ran red
Countless enemies captured bled
Trophies displayed high
Screams cast to the sky
Frenzy unbound
Howls of the hound
Night of devotion
Energy as the ocean
The prowling one thus prowled
Invoking frenzy of the crowd
All sacrifices given
Nothing hidden
In praise the warriors sang
To forever remember name
Warriors caught in blood
Dancing in the frenzied flood
Fell upon ones own sword
Invoking the gods mighty word
Entrails pulled forth to claim eternal might
Bloody deeds cast this night
One and the other
Each one a brother
Sacrificing self
Seeking blessing and eternal wealth
A flame across the isles north
From so many blood ran forth
Sacrifice of army great
Ritual remembered to this date
Magic imbued into this land
The Frenzied One is here to stand


Quiet Nights


The fire is a pleasure on nights that carry chill. Collecting firewood a necessary pleasure. I am surrounded by deep forest. Dry deadwood to create a lifetime of fires. Near is a pine forest. A strange pine forest. The air is thick there. As one approaches, it seems there is  an unseeable fence. I collect there as there is much to collect. A feeling of forbidden territory is felt here. A sense that it would rather you not be within. Perhaps it is the pine. Evergreens are known to drain one of energy. Perhaps it is the two nearby graves of era brothers war. Yet those still seem distant. It feels much older. For my people are new in these lands. Perhaps it is the twilight hour. This forest feels empty, yet so full. It feels as if it has been many things. It does not desire the perversion of ways. One must approach with a sacred tongue. Silence and dignity. Vardr feels of weariness within my circle. He remains half his distance closer, sniffing the earth and hearing the wind without stop, seeking to grasp what is around him. A feeling, that stands hair upon self or beast, is a feeling worth pursuing…


With enough fire collected, it is a quick stride home. My wife is enjoying green tea. I am in the mood for another cold beer.


The fire dances with many strange forms. It dances as the serpent rearing head, as fire dances unpredictable.