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  • Writer's pictureAndrew D. Clark


These days do surely mark the approach

Though haze pervades thy way

Fate union light

Born not of hope

Therein lies my aim.

Within the dell by yew-torn light

First glanced upon

O sweetest sight

O woden call

You passed the bough

Where silver tendrils rise

And came again

Again to me

Again dear union light.

Forward light of whisper’d change

Coming to me to rearrange

My soul song lost in tune

Igniting me so sweet

So soon.

Amber dawn from inward lustre

Embark within the rain

Calm of soul amid the storm

The beacon shines again

On the eve of northward dawn

By a dry and dampened wait.

By the eighth,

A greylit morn,

On the edge of northward fate.

Fair land o’ blood

Of glen torn highs

O farther north

I smile and breathe a sigh.

Seeds within my eye,

Have lead me to this place.

And once again shall I return,

To stay in open grace.

These wind-torn peaks

And time worn shores

O of the soul I speak

And they reply

O jagged crags in time.

Within amid

Such hurried sort

Eyes a-glaze, inanely wrought

Looking through the shadowed pane.

Knowing love will come again.

Golden sign remind

Idle crows at dawn

No longer wait in enmity

Fate union soon to call.

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