Transcendent Lies


After spending most of a day wandering the hills and woodlands of the Monadnock region I sat beneath a languid moon. Illumined by the night sky and not much else except for a candle, I spent the evening in repose and contemplation. Struck by thoughts of what it must have been like before we made all our “progress,” I began to lament what we have lost when we began to believe that there was some “out there” to aspire to.

Later this inspired me to rites of connection; a reclaiming of what has been left in the stifled shadows of our cultural awareness. That, as they is, is a tale for another time. This is about what inspires my search and work in the unseen world that sits squarely before and around us…



Majestic moon, take hold

in me, make bold, and fire the soul
freeing spirits, old and young. 

Once sprung from dark forest, 
the dead best speak. 
From owl’s beak and frost’s rime, 
breaking bonds of time and fate’s troth. 
How doth I listen well? 
Speech, fair and fell, of tomorrow’s days. 
In night’s gaze, I wander lost, 
and wonder at the cost we pay 
for limitless play at ether’s games.
Whilst forgotten names of old Gods fade 
in dusty shades of forgotten tomes.

Our ancient homes and circles broken.

Leaving only token words, easily blown
and covered; o’er grown, and tossed.
Considered dross by modern eyes,
taken in by transcendent lies.

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