Voice of the Ancient One

I am the ancient one.

When you speak with me,

you hear the stories of the spheres,

from beyond time.

You know who you are

and where you belong.

You remember who you used to be

and who you will become.

 

I am the ancient one.

When you stalk bear in the forest,

you become one with me.

When you howl like wolf,

I hear you down into the deepest roots of my spirit.

When you stop to talk to squirrel,

you are my friend and hers.

When you watch loon diving in the ocean,

we know what he can see.

 

I am the ancient one.

When you drum on the boulders by singer tree,

the stars move.

When you know moon weeps for earth,

there are stars between your toes

and the hollow tunnels of time stretch

all round earth and beyond the sun.

 

I am the ancient one.

When you see the red agony of my death

and see the blue swirling grief,

all round me in the clearing,

you hear the lives of trees

and their passings from this world.

 

I am the ancient one.

When you drum the rhythm I give you,

you see flicker and thrush and towhee

and you sing with the voice of wren.

When you drum wolf spirit alive,

you will see beyond night into days beyond reach

you will heal your throat

and speech of gods will return.

 

I am the ancient one.

When you dance with me,

your roots go down

to the boiling, churning magma,

in the centre of the earth.

 

I am the ancient one.

You are the voice we have,

you must tell our stories.