Posts Tagged ‘Otherworlds’


Hard rain washing the world away.

Leaves fall through cooling air.

The gutters are singing an autumn song.

Rivers wake from summer’s sleep.

I was dreaming of eagles and their turquoise voice

In the days where darkness drums down more suddenly

And the cold cannot any longer be shrugged off.

I was dreaming of a path that was a spiral

And a spiral that was a mirror.

I stand before a silent oak.

Its name is eternal song,

Retribution, its door.

Its mouth is darkness.

In the end we do not know what matters.

This curl of sound, this exhalation of breath

Might be enough for a universe to be complete.

I study the taste of this turquoise,

Turn it between cold fingers

Then walk into the hill ( for all hills are doorways).

If you follow the hare, the path shall lie

Flat as grass before a strong wind.

If you follow the deer, the path shall be

Dappled and filled with birdsong.

If you follow the otter, the path will be

Silver and smooth as moonlight.

If you follow the dead,

Returning to their places,

You shall find your path

To womb and fireside

And questions: why and whereto.

All the warm singing halls

Lost in mist and blood.

All the familiar is a lie.

The world is utter strangeness

And the stars, known but unnamed.

I have been a trowel, an eagle, a pen.

What has been put together, falls apart.

These dreams you do not own.

Each is borrowed to keep you warm.

The path is a name you do not know.

This world is all the clue you will get.

Wrapped and unwrapped, each day a reminder.

There is no greater fool than a poet,

No greater truth than the lie of poetry.

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The desire to move
To the centre of silence
Where the big trees
Pin their shade
In the deep valleys.

Where big wings wheel
Marking an upward swing
Of stars and moments.

A cradled place,
Habitation of saints.
A long dust, incense
White hawthorn,
Incense lilac.

And the voice
Of dappled rivers.

The present slips
From between our fingers
But the past is always with us.
We, its shadow,
An uncertain glimmering
At the edge of cities.

Moving to Otherworlds
Where past and future
Dissolve the moments
Like sugar in water.

He writes the wisdom down
Upon his own skin,
A continual palimsest.
A fugue of breathings,
We flicker in and out
Of that dream,
Actors, watchers, or both.
Now summoned
We shall dance.
Will return to shadow.

Close your eyes, love,
And see the world
As it is,
As it dreams itself:
Whole, hungry
And continually singing.


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magenta blue orange1

(Glen Mor and the Ard Ri n’a Sidhe, Mull)

“We shall give to you here
The skill of the Song of the Land.

Words of silver,
Words of gold.

Sweet gale and honey
On the tongue tip.

The melancholy of the curlew
And the lapwing.

The smooth stream of the blackbird;
The harsh heart of the eagle.

For you are only human –

Life as sweet as the scent of violets
And then gone.”


Here, then, is the last of the Ten Keys to the Green Kingdoms and the words that discover their essence. Collecting environmental and subtle energy essences can be an uncertain thing. One can doubt the veracity of what is perceived, of what images and thoughts pass in front of consciousness. We knew the island of Mull still retained a sentient link to the Fairy Kingdoms, once felt throughout Britain, now rarely encountered or paid attention to. These words formed and seemed to me to emanate from high in the hierarchy of the Secret Commonwealth, the Otherworld realms. Delusion is easy for humans, however. I wished that I could be shown some veracity of the intent and content of the words. Immediately thereafter, as I was gazing out from the coach window, a grey heron flew close alongside us, keeping pace with the vehicle. Those who know, know the heron as a significant messenger of the Hidden Kingdoms. These things happen, likely or not. The Green Kingdoms underlie all levels of landscape, history, myth, psyche. They are the dreaming of the world. Those who might have been touched somehow by one or more Key may like to look at using the essence as a spiritual nutrient. Please go to http://greenmanshop.co.uk

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blue green1


“Your science of rigidities
Are lies of the fearful.

We, here, are void and free.
Infinite, immortal flow.

Limitless, deathless
Tuned, turning tides,
Roaring silence.

Impossible song
None can forget.

Escape you frozen fears,

You are, anyway,
Made vessels for our fierce bliss.

Let go.
Find us,
Void and free.”

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slate blue red3

(Sheaval, Barra)

To bring us home safe
She waits upon the hillside.
To bring us home safe –
Old roads straight worn
From loch to lochan.

The cry of seagulls
From the land
Lost in mists.


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violet turquoise indigo gold1

(Beinn Sguraval, Barra)

Mountain wearing a cloak of flowers.
Grey door.
See in new ways:
Relax, allow your sight.
Where your attention flows,
There is a doorway.
Veils of rain
Thousand primroses
Melt meanings,
Dissolve barriers.
Music is the ordering of silence.
See with your heart.
Nothing is hidden but in clear view.
You yourself are the key.

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white green violet

(St. Columba’s Well, Barra)

At the green knees of Beinn Tangaval:
Little cave,
Stream of inspiration.

White dove,
Among the wind and weathered rock
Orchid, lousewort and asphodel,
secret and safe.

In the bay:
Turquoise and violet waters,
Arc of sand.

On the lochside shore
White feather on the air.

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(Stones of Callanish)

Ripples outwards.
Past, present, future, sitting down
To feast at the same table.
The ancestors from whom we descend
Graciously remain;
Their old,wrinkled faces,
Their stone fingers,
Reveal the bones, extracting
Meat and marrow:
This is where eternity crystallises.
This is where soul, stone and star converse.
Procession of coincidence.
The music of time.

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