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Bardic Poetry

borderTo kick off this page, here's a poem of Greywolf's that, when it appeared on our old website, elicited more responses from around the world than anything else on the site.

Finding the way

When this search began I was a child and you an unborn, unthought dream.
Looking for your smile among the golden brown I scattered autumn leaves,
watched the silver moonlight dancing on the waves and felt you move,
caught the sun and burnt my skin in summer to honour your shadow,
gave birth to paintings and drama in the corners of dark houses all for you.
I wrote poems and played marbles and strummed a cheap guitar to win your heart,
posing in the mirror with childhood`s ageless wisdom dropping tears in my eyes.
I fabricated shirts of many colours hoping one day to see you smiling, naked.
I wore my hair long for you and fought everything that was not perfect,
for all that was not perfect I knew could not be you. And then I waited.

I grew older, carrying longings like leather suitcases on pointless journeys.
I filled my veins and lungs and brain with things to make you come to me,
thinking you might be a hallucination that would twist into reality if I just
closed my eyes and felt with sliding fingers through the multi-coloured nights.
I slept in fields, in hedges, on cold streets and strangers` beds, wondering
where are you tonight? Where are you tonight? Where are you tonight?
And in the morning I walked down to the beach before the dawn
and watched the sunrise and the fading star of morning, wondering
if your eyes were open and, if they were, what was it that they saw?

And when you came to me the fragments of a broken mirror pieced
themselves together, the scattered leaves of autumn sang and returned
to waiting trees whose voices spoke in blossoms of the spring, and birds
built nests in your honour and bees gathered nectar sweeter than before,
the sun rose brighter and more vivid, the moon-splashed waves danced more
and more and I saw the endless textures of life and love and mystery unfold
in the heavy-scented splendour of a blood red evening rose.
You fill me with the spirit of all that I have been or may some day become,
and all the years of searching fall away and I am young and old and old and young.
Naked to my soul I stand before you. I bring you gifts as tokens of the one
gift I waited all those years to offer you: myself, heart and soul, and all my love.