tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15341476.post-1164726066390480442006-11-28T06:54:00.000-08:002006-11-28T07:01:06.486-08:00<span style="font-family:verdana;">Many new friends are arriving at the Gypsy Camp,</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">and all are invited to stand in the flickering shadows</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">to sing or tell a ballad or story or prayer --</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">these give more warmth than the glowing embers.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I will start things off -- not a Bard for naught --</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">and will tell you something of my home and haven</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">at Sakin'el. Sung in two voices</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">faucon</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">.........................................................................</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Sakin’el Hush</span><br /><br />And the Bard sang by the fire bright …<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><em>“If you will do this in trust and love<br />then Sakin'el will live anew,<br />and at each splendid sunset kiss<br />you will hear the faint 'Silent Breeze'<br />of ever profound inner peace.”<br /></em><br />“but what will I hear,” asked the maiden faire,<br />with teasing eyes and coquettish aire?<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><em>“draw close to the flowers with petaled dew<br />and look at the reflection there,<br />while gentle bees caress the wind<br />and hum of sweet nectared dreams<br />soon lost to age and vanity.”<br /></em><br />“how loud is the sound,” mused the withered crone,<br />with vacant eyes who slept alone?<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><em>“the trees will thunder and the stones will shout<br />if you stand as one ‘pon the path;<br />while holding hands can mute the din<br />and change the music to quiet song<br />best heard from the lips of a friend.”<br /></em><br />“do they tell stories,” requested the youth<br />with wand’ring spirit searching truth?<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><em>“brave soldiers on horseback beat steady drums<br />and dragons breathe through piercing flutes<br />and Viking ships sound a longing horn,<br />calling to arms companions true<br />to follow a quest most daring.”</em><br /><br />“are they ever hushed,” sighed the tonsured priest<br />whose fervant prayers never ceased.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><em>“if one can be silent they sing the same<br />and echo spirit’s harmony<br />to a song of Light and knowing,<br />where heart strings are plucked<br />b y an angelic choir in love.”<br /></em><br />“can I sing along,” laughed the little elf<br />with innocent mirth beside himself.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><em>“if you sing ‘belong’ and soon join right in<br />and dance a lick and whistle now,<br />then birds chirp in and clouds applaud<br />the music of humanity,<br />gifted by the morning dawn.”<br /></em><br />“can I then just sit and watch,” cried the child<br />with remembered touch beguiled.”<br /><br /></span><em><span style="font-family:verdana;">“to live life is to surly embrace life<br />and conduct an orchestra grand,<br />where you will coax your soul to sing<br />and blend with whispers of Tegsh<br />as she accomp’nies even me.”</span><br /><br /></em>faucon of Sakin'elhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10898530320499090537noreply@blogger.com