The Spell of Being
I am without time.
I am all times.
I am a speck of dust
I am a mountain of stone.
I am without form.
I am all forms.
I am the last Spark of Hope
I am the Inferno of Creation
I am the unseen Past.
I am the unknown Future.
I am the soft sigh of Death
I am the gale of Chaos
I am without Life
I am without Death
I am a silent Tear
I am an unbroken Wave
I am Spirit without form
And I am Form in Spirit
I am not
Can you hear my lost children, through the noise of your machines?
Do you see what you are doing as the world around you screams?
The cancer of your avarice has spread throughout my spirit.
It’s reflected in your bodies as diseases take your dearest.
You think you can deny me and it’s your death that’s truly near.
Don’t you realize wayward children that I’m not what you should fear?
Yet you seek to see yourself apart from the flesh that gives you life
And think quite mistakenly that you’re beyond the cost of strife.
Mounds of Stone hacked from my flesh in which you hide your eyes
You Mother ground beneath you yet you seek the sky for lies.
You pillage from my body sustenance for souls desires
And you burn my fragile skin with chemically wrought fire
You’ve tapped the blood stream deep within and smiled on the way
Still you seek to consume it all with no thought to repay.
Life reflects in cycles round, through which your spirit flows
Yet you’ve turned away from things of which you need to know.
Turned your face away from me though a few still hold the keys
I wait for you to return to me on green skirted weary knees
Invented Gods supplant me though all things have I provided
Upon a world of decaying hate your civilization stands divided
You quibble like lost children over morsels or tawdry bits of skin
In blind greed you destroy the home I am, this is your greatest sin.
All things I’ve set before you although your priest’s deny
To think that one who never hears loves you, simply makes me sigh
Yet will you heed the warnings loud now that Ire is born
Will you understand the words, that drive the coming storm
Without me my lost children, no life you’d ever had.
I care not what you call my Lord but your Mothers getting mad.
So please my children heed me and turn from your wicked ways.
The life you think you thought you’d built has reached its final days.
Yet there are still those few among you who seek a better way
Turn away from your greed and let your hearts come out to play
Banfiadh – copywright 2007