The Art of Staris Gedren

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The Hidden Realm

by Staris Gedren

 

In the Dark light I roam through the realm of dreams and ideas, Waiting, Watching,

For a tiny glimmer amidst the trees.

I dance the circle old, darkness visible,

Not blinding or foreboding;

As Ancient guardians Spring to life, Not forgotten; they are our kin.

They laugh as I dance and whoop and call, weaving the Air;

Soft down on my skin.

 

They tried to take us away from them,

But as I reel in and out, I know they canít feel their life, their spirit, their nature;

Our nature!

No one can destroy this Sacred Place, this secret place; gentle as a sucklings face.

 

They live their lives in a world of green, though not the same as you and I;

Our world is green, this much is true,  but ALIVE, oh, so Alive!

We feel our green as solid rock, But our green you cannot touch,

Except by our minds.

Such gentleness though subtle power,

Not Stabbing cruelly as THEIR envy Blinds.

 

Both time and light drift gently by like the water of a lazy river

As cows eat grass on a hot Summers day,

Under the Sun, The life giver.

With two guardian oaks close by, the shady brook a sea of tranquillity

As I look up into her light.

 

 

 

Believe me, if all those endearing young charms,

Which I gaze on so fondly today,

Were to change by tomorrow,

And fleeting in my arms,

Like fairy gifts,

Fading away.

Thou wouldst still be adored as this moment thou art,

Let thy loveliness fade as it will; And, around the

dear Ruin, each wish of my heart Would entwine

itself verdantly still!

 

It is not while beauty and youth are thine own, And thy cheeks

Unprofained by a tear, That the fervour and faith of a soul can be

Known, To which time will but make thee more dear! No, the

Heart that has truly lovíd never forgets. But as truly, lover on

To the close; As the sunflower turns on her god when he sets

The same look which she turníd when he rose.

 

Thomas Moore