IN ALL THINGS I DWELL
When the Culdees sat by the standing stone,
where the sidhe was the chosen home,
at the top of a rugged mountain peak,
deep in the valley where insects speak,
a man travelled into a future time
recreating himself in a poets’ rhyme.
It was long ago, when the world was new,
with fewer choices of what to do,
this man sat gazing in his chair,
he wasn’t here, he wasn’t there,
he’d gone to the place of in between
where imaginary thoughts can be seen.
he sat for hours.
Until he thought to lie down flat,
take himself from where he sat,
to a comfortable position on the floor,
in total darkness, he closed the door,
listened to leaves in the gusting breeze,
heard crashing waves from pounding seas.
smelt fragrant flowers.
He sat for hours, he sat for days,
he carefully considered different ways
to take himself from here to there,
without having to leave his chair,
he saw himself in another place
with different clothes, a different face.
The Culdees stood by the sacred stones,
the Tuatha De Danann prepared new homes,
while the ocean carried a vibrating scream,
“I Am! As you are, I flow like the stream,
I fall with the tide, I rise with the swell
I drift on the breeze, in all things I dwell!”