Many Things
I Am A Storey Teller
Seated round the smokey fire
Faces clouded by curling wreaths
Attentive faces focused listening
While I spin threads of myth and fancy
For this is what I was meant to be
Bred in my bones to tell the tales
Told to me
Entrusted to me
To ensure their preservation
I trained for this
Practiced long
Weaving words in warp and weft
With multi-coloured threads
On the loom I was given
Around this stoney circle
And wrap it over encircling shoulders
Drawing ever closer
While casting out to dare the darkness
To come no further
I pose an invitation to partake with me
The substance of what I recite
Join me while I draw you in
To tell the story of many things
And make this circle whole.