The Ancient Trees

Whispering through the trees,

Softly blowing breezes

Blow through this ancient forest.

Beneath the trees, dappled shadows dance,

Alight with the sun’s ray,

Upon the moss and brush.

Utter stillness pervades the wood;

Age presses down like a thick blanket,

Thickening the air in this place,

Years uncounted.

Verdant light and azure shadow

Play across the tree-lined stream,

Flickering over the swirls and swells

In their rush to move on.

The water is the only thing that moves

In this tranquil wood,

The air barely stirs,

Heavy with the scent of oak and maple,

Rowan, ash, cherry, holly, and willow.

Here in this place may be found

Rest and peace and inner knowledge,

Communion with the world around,

Listening to the voice of the ages past.

Here in this place, so far away

From every human touch and deed.

In this wood, this ancient copse

Now grown into a mighty forest.

The air still flickers with the power

That once dwelt amongst the trees,

Then naught but saplings,

Now agèd grandfathers of forests.

They harbor the memories of a long-ago time

When men and nature walked in harmony

Along the paths of Life.

Whispers of ancient names

Awakens dim remembrances,

Once known throughout the world.

The Fair Folk and their kin;

Roland and Merlin and Nimue -

Now distant thoughts in the mind.

All is passing into the mists

Like Avalon of old,

Never to be recovered

Until belief once more awakens

In the soul of Man.

Where have they all gone,

Those memories of the past,

Now kept in this guarded wood.

Where is Man’s soul?

The wood whispers that there is little time.

Soon, all magic and beauty will fade

Unless the heart of Man believes again

In the Ancient Mysteries,

And in the wood that once was

Broceliande.