Filling me, the scent
of cedars and pines
along the rocks of centuries,
the beaches of summers
that have never ceased.
 
Sometimes soft, sometimes hard,
a dance of water and stone
in the murmur
of soulful woods.
 
In ancient times
there were kings and knights
and endless bloodlines
that are now a memory.
 
I slip between the rays
of speckled radiation
filtered through the leaves
of the forest’s secret places.

Panthers and bears,
the howl of the pack,
alone without armor
beneath a sky of leaves.
 
I call to my ancestors
who drifted through the forests
and plains of ancient Europe,
filling the abandoned land
with settlements.
 
In the ancient woods
it is all a dream
but this song of the pipe
has never stopped playing.