The Ballad of Herne's Son - by: Bress G. Nicneven
Following the hoofprints of my forefathers
I make the long perilous journey
Between the worlds of a forgotten veil
Moving lightly and freely forward
Backward across space and time-wise
Of the Ancient Ones slow saga
Yet the very quickening of my heart
Belonging to their unspoken wisdom
In earnest yearning for the truth
Which lies inside my frail shell
Decomposing in the presence of useless matter
Of the New Aeon’s fast plastics
That trod steadily over the World view
In an arrow of blinding blissfulness
Behind the sacred circle of belief
Destroying the nature of natural things
Suffocating the psyche of man’s primal instincts
Of a universal purity long ago lost
I run through life in stag fashion
Bleeding from sharp bladed tongues of grass
Jumping over rivers of drowning deception
Following the path of scorched earth
Where the oaks pray to the remembrance
Of the hoofprints of my forefathers.
I make the long perilous journey
Between the worlds of a forgotten veil
Moving lightly and freely forward
Backward across space and time-wise
Of the Ancient Ones slow saga
Yet the very quickening of my heart
Belonging to their unspoken wisdom
In earnest yearning for the truth
Which lies inside my frail shell
Decomposing in the presence of useless matter
Of the New Aeon’s fast plastics
That trod steadily over the World view
In an arrow of blinding blissfulness
Behind the sacred circle of belief
Destroying the nature of natural things
Suffocating the psyche of man’s primal instincts
Of a universal purity long ago lost
I run through life in stag fashion
Bleeding from sharp bladed tongues of grass
Jumping over rivers of drowning deception
Following the path of scorched earth
Where the oaks pray to the remembrance
Of the hoofprints of my forefathers.