Meeting a bard


Meeting a bard

I met a bard.

And he was kind

and gentle.

And he was his own king.

And showed no fear,

as the darkness drew near.

An his eyes sparkled,

and he spoke the Truth,

and the Truth was with him.

And he loved his grandma,

As I loved mine)

(God rest her soul).

And he stood on a sacred hill,

without a chair to sit on.

And took us to another place.

He spoke of Truth,

and he spoke of Freedom,

and many grand and glorious things.

And the sun shone on Eire,

and Light descended

and our spirits rose.

I wished I could have given him more money.

For what he had to give,

was priceless.

But he was an investment banker in his past life,

and that didn't really matter.

And I was grateful.

And I knew,

that day :

The best is yet

to come.

May the ancient memories be awakened.

May we all step into the Lights of our own souls,

and see what this glorious thing called life,

has

to offer.

As we raise our words not our voice

growing gentle flowers

of Poetree,

to Spring,

once

again,

and forever

more.

A

men.




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