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Cyledr/ He had the guts

He had the guts –  he fell in love.
For that he can’t be blamed.
He had the guts, but love is tough,
And story’s still the same.

He had the guts to fight for her,
He was so brave and bold,
He saw the pyre, He watched it burn
And then he had to fall.

He had the guts, that fine young man,
His armor was sublime,
But fate and death walk hand in hand,
He had to walk the line.

Of course he loved her- how could he not? Everyone did – kings and knights, poets and queens. She was young, she was beautiful and kind, she was like a budding spring, so light and tender, so bright and gentle.

Creiddylad reminded them of cherry tree flowers, of spring rains, of silken threads and softness of clouds. Nobody saw her for what she was – wilful, strong, like a willow, gracious and fragrant as meadowsweet flower.

I saw that. But I had my sight set on her since she was a girl- all in white,her hair flying in the wind, she wandered into my woods and ate an apple. Years passed and she came back, taking a pomegranate with her when she left.

Third time she ate some grapes, and I knew right away she was the one.

That tournament in her honor was to make her mine, yet Gwythyr came too. Promised, he said. A bargain, I corrected him. Let us ask the maiden.

The maiden smiled to me. She knew me, and she was scared of him. I won the joust, yet she was given to him. I yielded- yet I knew she was mine.

She came to me to say goodbye before her wedding night. She said she loved me – and that night I took her for my wife.

Gwythyr never cared. He sent that young man, Cyledr, to bring her back. Little did he know that Cyledr loved her. Gwythyr promised reward, Cyledr obliged. His father accompanied him, as did his men.

His men fell one by one.

Gwythyr promised him a night with my beloved – and that enraged me. Cyledr was a fine man, but nobody would dare take her away from me. His father tried.

Nwython was old, Nwython fell. Cyledr dared me to a duel. He lost.

His father’s heart was still warm when I pulled it from his chest.

Eat, I said. Eat and be forgiven. I give you wisdom. I give you foresight. I give you rebirth. Eat, and be enlightened.

That was my mercy. He was too noble to die

He took the heart. He walked to the pyre we lit to honor the dead. He walked into the flames.

When we pulled him out, His face was scarred, His face was scorched. His face was the face of a Wyllt- burned, brown as tree bark, his hair singed.

When we pulled him out, the heart in his hands was hot,yet unharmed. He still held it, but refused to be aided.

He felt no pain, and he cried. He stumbled into the woods, and we saw him not.

He became the Wyllt, and the forest devoured him.

He became the Wyllt, and his story began anew.

He became the Wyllt, but before that

His name was Cyledr.

Published by aneuringwynn

Tarot master, channeler, awenydd and writer

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