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All Ye Pagan Clans Make Prayers for Me

Spiritual whispers of solitude sound, sufficiently formed,
Born out of the mists and the grace of this my forest place,
Where I have come to be with ye now, in the faint of your storms,
And your dreams and mine as well, will be those that we chase,

Lo, I cannot see there in the far forest that which shackles me endlessly,
Tho I love the smell of rotting brush below my feet as I walk, it arouses me,
Tainted rotting leaves and twigs, tree branches emanating nearest the sea,

All ye pagan clans come forth and sit at my side and make prayers for me.

Thom Douglas Carlisle ( Irish Tommy Moran ) - Ireland


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I am not a pagan, but I will come from afar and sit with thee and even pray for thee.

Hey Tom

This brought back wonderful childhood memories for me.
There was a place we used to go to in North wales called Colomendy.
We used to go with school for a few days here and there and it was just walking through the Countryside and the woods, yes the smells of the woods and the noises of twigs breaking under your feet.

Thanks for sharing this

Ladywind7,

You are precious!

tommy boy moran / Ireland

Big Joe, ( thebricky, )

Sounds as though you're travels as a wee young seal-pup found ye with a cool semblance of grace. And your very vividness has not gone unnoticed, my good friend. Thank ye for your kindness in sharing your views - and remembrances. I enjoyed the reading. Nice comment, Big Joe!

tommy boy moran / Ireland