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Old ways (Free verse) by ecargo

Here a path ends, above reap and reel, the sea stones and the long rills. Here I find a quiet hour, where no wind sounds and no breath follows. I walk above the sea, the broken paths above the mysteries of the high alters drowned, and by sea light read in the cursive of birds, as we hang in mid air, a sorcerer’s word. I scatter in the scattering waves, all longing in the buoy bell, the black hags raising their black wings to the sun, in becoming, undone.

Ranger 19-Mar-06/6:08 PM
Very...well, Tolkien. Yet again you've given a brief poem crammed to the rafters with great lines and stark images; I might have to refer to this as 'Comment #1', as I get the feeling that I'm likely to post this, or words to these effects on everything you write!
'Reap and reel' was my favourite excerpt from this, made me think of fields on one side and the sea on the other...but also of stone and wild grass pathways. 'Black hags...' was another class line.
All in all, a top read before bed!




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