High on Cader Idris’ peak, the lake,
bordered, bearded by reeds
not a ripples passes
across its silver mirrored face
the day is grey, enchanted
Arthur’s seat, a granite throne,
where I sit today, alone,
in quiet, dreaming contemplation
of golden days that may return
to bless the green land far below
”Are you here, are you there?”
my words escaping to air
the reeds sing and sigh in return
as they bow and are still again
as a wisp of a mist roles in
when a person has a birthday
how ever old they are
you think about a child
and all the gifts they crave
with all the world spread out ahead
wishing on a star
but later on in life,
you start to realise
it’s not about the birthday gifts
you only wish for greetings
from loved ones flung afar
all the distant family
and all the friends you made
just to see them smile again
though they are in the grave
it’s hard to have a party
when the guests are gone away
and you are the last of them
to linger here and stay
you watch the children gather
you offer them some cake
you smile and laugh and bless them
and linger for their sake
bells ring out, fireworks blaze
bless the old, light up the new
bring the New Year in
The Dreaming Path 