Under the clear dark sky on top of the summit,
I looked for the polestar to guide me.
In the early morning mist undulating through the valley,
I heard your voice gently calling me.
I breathed in the cool morning air,
finished the last drop of my tea.
I felt the warm blood pumping through my veins,
and knew the red dragon awakened.
I put out the fire but the carried the flint with me.
With bergen on my back and boots tightened up,
I was ready to roam these mountains again.
I remembered to water Myrddin’s tree
and dust the round table.
I walked by Dylan’s house the other day,
he was there no longer but left me his pen.
On my travels,
I picked up a sword, a book of spells and a rock for a resolution.
I left a trail of memories.
a lump of charcoal, a copper cup, and a few lines of poetry.
wherever you are.
You are where I wished to go,
and I am where you used to be.
But neither of us,
where we supposed to be.