Aneirin

Aneirin

I am the son of the heathered hills,
The rolling waves and the distant skies,
I am the son of the mists and winds,
The cliffs and rivers, the moss and pines.

I am the one who sang in the wild,
Of battles and hearts on the chainmail sleeves,
I am the one who never took sides,
In halls where they drank, and on bloody fields.

I am the son of the land that is gone,
The shadow and legend, the distant shore,
I am the song that is all dead and done,
The key to the gilded and rotten doors.

I am the son of the eagles in flight
The sunrise and sunset, that are no more.
I am the one of unrivalled might
That’s all but forgotten, unsung, forlorn.

I am the bard of the flaming verse,
Of sword and the pain, and of battle cries,
I am the prince of the scathing words
Of guilt and blame, and honor that died.

I am the one who came once before,
Who loved and ached, yet desired to live
I am the voice from grim days of yore,
All pain and longing, and never free.

I am Aneirin, the golden one,
Prince of bards and the bard of kings,
I am Aneirin, the broken one,
Who has no solace or hope to give.

I am Aneirin- so raise a glass,
And pour the mead to set me free,
I am Aneirin- in one swift glance
I shall be gone – so just let me be.