ule_beornheard (ule_beornheard) wrote in vanatroth,
ule_beornheard
ule_beornheard
vanatroth

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A Lament





Once, people walked upon the land,
And knew that behind each tree
And within each hill
Lurked spirits, living beings.
Each hill was holy, each tree.


I have my car and my cell phone;
They had horses and swords.

I have my nice synthetic jacket,
Wool cloaks were draped over their shoulders.

I feel the warmth of my central heating,
They felt the warmth of a hearth.

I speak to others that I never see, staring at a screen.
They looked into the eyes of people, around a fire.


I search, weary-eyed, through books,
And I listen to the wind,
Seeking for hints of holiness
In a world that has forgotten the mystical.
They lived in a magical world, full of gods.


They rode through rain on horses
My car carries me further, and dryer.

My fine jacket is surely much warmer
Than any rough wool or leather.

My home keeps me more securely from cold
Without worry about sputtering fire.

The people I talk to, they are real.
Even If I don't hear their voices.


We've studied the Wind. It's been explained.
What Gods do we need now?
What Gods did we ever need?
So what makes me listen?
What, Indeed?


Once, people walked upon the land,
And knew that behind each tree
And within each hill
Lurked spirits, living beings.
Each hill was holy, each tree.


No cars, no phones, no modern clothing
Or convenience,
And perhaps they even died earlier,
Of things we can cure easily-
They fell as saplings, instead of trees.


And every one of them,
Gathered around those ancient fires
Was infinitely richer than me.


* * *


Copyright © 2004 by Ule Beornheard


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