Sometimes,talking to you is like traversing the wide woods. You are infinite, endless, beguiling, entrancing- with millions of voices you call, with thousands you answer.
Sometimes, walking with you is like breathing freely after suffocating for days on end. Eyes open wide, lungs open up, and all the clutter disappears. Calmness reigns where nervousness once ruled, and the world stops.
Sometimes, yearning for you is like trying to make way through brambles. Thorns bite into the skin, piercing, wounding, like the hawthorn and blackthorn labyrinths in the woods. There, where nothing is certain, you stand. Unchanged. Forever young and forever wise, your eyes twinkling.
Sometimes, serving you is like guessing, solving riddles. Gently you speak, yet there is an unmistakable tinge of sadness in your voice, as if you know how hard it is at times. Soothing is your voice, yet silver and steel run in it, like the ores in the deep mines – always there, but never on the surface.
Sometimes, understanding you is like reading an ancient book. Winding is the script, long are the words. Mind stumbles on each page, dazzled by the magnificence and power in the writing
Sometimes, waiting for you is like standing on the edge of the abyss, trying to see through the fog,reach through the mist. Nothing is clear enough, yet it calls, it lures, it enchants- and leaves you wandering. It keeps you teetering on the brink, at the edge, on the boundary – forever.
Sometimes,following you is like running through the vast fields in the storm. The grasses are high, drenched with rain, as are the clothes of the one who runs. All the world is against you, yet you run. All the world is against you, yet you follow the call.
It is hard, my Lord Gwyn, being with you – but nothing is more precious or worth doing.
Hail, hail, the King of the Golden Halls,
Hail, hail, the Lord of the mists and ways,
Hail, hail, the Master of the Hunt,
Hail, hail, the one who sees all!