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The Dragonmill.

There is a place
Where birds sing to the Sun
So the people have music to move to
Their feet chanting to the Earth with each step
Dancing deeper into worship
Praying to Her with laughter.

The seeds are planted
And Her smile is in the food growing
This sacred garden of blessings
Hold so many secrets
Ancient history vibrates through the stones
Into our souls.

There is a place
Where children run wild like the flowers
Where stinging plants remind you where you stand
Where the Moon seduces the Sun every night in a bed of stars
Where myths are reborn by the fire
And wisdom is whispered in the trees
Where the language of the Earth Our Mother is spoken.

No matter where you come from,
Her
You are at home.

Namaste

( Emily Frost , Student of Berkeley Univesity Los Angeles
Walpurgisnacht (Beltane) Dragonmill Mai 2007)