From:
bone & claw
& dying breath
tree root & feathered wing
obsidian eye of crow
mystic crystal dewdrops
river’s lilting tumble of song
ocean’s cavernous wailing
mountain’s ancient wait
From:
stillness of deep loch, wombing the invisible
silk webbed mysteries, an intelligence so vast
from a look upon those stars, which are no longer here
a sense of diminishment & wonder
how infinitesimally small i am
how gone i will be
my whole lived life
making a speck of dirt
wash my soul in the wake
of this behemoth’s tale
rippling a scribble
to the edge of this pond
flailing grasp
to catch a ghost
everything I have learned
every wisdom accumulated
i will lose
knowing broken heartedly
the ashes of my best day
have already passed
might i have plucked already
the feather of winged flight
to adorn this quilled pen
and make this bloodied scrawl
red ink drops
reflecting the (w)hole
a single hen-pecked grain
all earth’s dissembling lines
converging now
plummeting an echo
aged spiraling love song
a whisper of a place
beyond this veiled threshold
behind the mask of knowing
this resplendent now
this miracle of a moment
all things and no thing
The Cauldron simmers
Awen bubbling a poetic broth anew.
Notes:
Awen is a Welsh, Cornish and Breton word for “inspiration“ (and typically poetic inspiration). In Ireland you would find commonality with the word Imbas.
In Welsh mythology awen is the inspiration of the poets, or bards; or, in its personification, Awen is the inspirational muse of creative artists in general. The inspired individual (often a poet or a soothsayer) is described as an awenydd. Neo-Druids might define awen as “flowing energy,” or “a force that flows with the essence of life.”
In current usage, awen is sometimes ascribed to musicians and poets.
The cauldron is central to the myth of Ceridwen, more of which you can discover HERE



Awenydd, you are Awen to me. Awen lives on forever, I think, and all its life and wisdom with it.
This is good enough to reread 🐝