After work again, and off I was to hitch the bus and drive out. Out into the rolling hills. Out into the twilight of the forest, away from the frantic ratrace and the heat of summer. Into another form of existence...
As the adder sheds its skin, with a look back from the cool shadows, a look with a smile.
Into a hall where wooden pillars bear a sky of green.
Twilight is where my name was born, twilight reigns where few men tread, and twilight is the balm that soothes my soul.
From the deep, deep, dark, rich soil there sprouts a crystal, quartz unfolds its blossoms over the aeons, growing steadily, stealthily in the dark, through veins of rock and subtle life that is thus alien to life it can´t be called.
Under root and gnarled wood and rock-hard oaken portal it sprouts into the world.
Beside the trail of deer and mouflon, of hare and fox and snake and lizard, where the tiny mouse fight their fights and survive their adventures, under a sky pierced with the song of the hunting buzzard...
...the gold of fae and treasures of the dirt...
...connect to each other like a link to link of an iron chain. And as rune to rune the spell of twilight sings into my soul...
I see unfolded secrets from the deep, I feel unfolded from my debth myself.
And thus I grow, grow like the oak, the mighty keeper of the gates...
And thus I fall, like death in life and life in death.
And so I walked in enchantment of this runic song, walked the hours away until I reached the shed in the woods where I often sit and sip my tea and contemplate.
And smiled into my wooden cup of forest.
