Photo by: Stewart Brennan
A Secret Place
The forest children hid their lands
amongst the ivy’s brackish tans
of thickets that surround their fore
a mile or so upon the shore.
Intuition had found it there
not far away from Hatley fair
amongst the deepest greens you’ll see
neath the elms and willow tree.
The way inside where I was led
through scarlet shroud a glowing red
this forest place that I was shown
with door made of carnelian stone.
Around the frame time spoke in runes
of passing cycles of the moon
which played a part in crossing through
now lost to shadows from our view.
First nations of the pagan age
intune with nature they engaged
their gem stone works are still revered
and from their path all lines appeared.
Lost forever, histories gone
in common knowledge all withdrawn
these forest seeds of human birth
that stretched out far across the earth.
But presence here is greatly felt
in conscious minds all about
who see the door in waking dreams
a mile or so near Hatley streams.
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*Hatley is a small country village of about 800 people tucked away in the Eastern Townships, Quebec.
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