Many Things

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.