The world is seen in black and white
By the harvest moon’s silver light.
No clouds above to block the sight
Of stars that shine down through this night.
Tonight the woods are picture-still:
No creature stirs, no sound to fill
My ears. This endless moment will
A sense of utter calm instil.
I walk along the path that wends
Between the trees; it weaves and bends,
Rising quickly my course ascends
Until atop the hill it ends.
In front of me a ring of stone,
Ages old, creators unknown.
A place of power – druids’ throne
With secrets never to be shown.
I see the circle as a gate
Whose opening I shall await,
Then I’ll receive a gift from Fate:
My mind at peace, immaculate.