|Of The Wildwood|
I absolutely love the poetry of Ly De Angeles. I highly recommend her book, "The Feast of Flesh and Spirit", where you can find the following poem. It reflects completely where I am at today.
"I am forgotten until you remember me,
I am the living root; the forever Tree---
I await beneath the senses for the soul who truly listens
with an ear to hear my mystery...
and in the song of such a one I am remembered;
and remembering will set the sacred free
to walk through dreams that can rebuild the ancient trackways,
to awaken memories of fires on the hills,
to call the faidh and the ceoltóirí to attend me
As I plant the living legends in the places of the deep,
(where the forgotten ones still sleep)
of the forest of profusion of the ever-living Tree.
I am the Watcher of the Gate--I am not found
in any book already written, already printed, already bound
but in the spaces yet to be heard;
in the mystery of the yet-to-be-written word.
Ancient Now. Alive divine.
Prepare a place for me; a face for me.
Deny me not; I am the legend of the Vine.
And I am yours, beloved---you who hear me
And in an act that holds to nothing, we entwine." ~ Ly De Angeles (excerpt: The Watcher)