In honor of Silas’s birthday, I offer this wee gift of poetry.
Some men are born to be warriors,
Protection by the sword.
Some men are born to be kings,
Ruling by the law.
And some, the special ones, are born to be a bard,
History by the word.
Upon this day, in mythic times, centuries in the past,
Under Archer moon, druid lover born.
Silas of Cedarmara.
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Beyond the veil in dark of night,
Listening to the wind.
Heralding a king and queen,
To sit upon the holly throne.
Upon the steed Aldebaran,
Racing ‘cross the land.
Out of mist beyond the stones,
Pride of Celts beats in his heart.
He’ll sing a song and share a brew,
And make you feel at home.
Harp and drum make faeries dance,
In flowering meadows dewy wild.
Perfect aim with word and bow,
Lyrical and magic.
Forest deep to burning hearth,
Heroic deeds of love and battle.
From shore to shore, tree to castle,
Journeys with his lady.
Trav’lers both from timeless waves,
Healing ancient wounds and curses.
Dryad light, cat and mouse,
Wisdom in the making.
Eye of whale and starry sky,
Winter promise auld lang syne.
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