lost in the landscapes of my imagination,
i stooped to drink from a dark water
lifting its secrets to my lips,
while the echoes of another time drifted by.
somewhere a raven flies, calling me Home,
someone from a distance, it seems,
dark and unseen, hidden by veils
of ancient forest, the smell of wet leaves.
i know that voice and that scent,
familiar as my own tongue
or the land of my childhood,
and smiling, I stopped, to listen.
