Her eyes sparkle by the Moon,
Watchful trees quieter than mice,
Subdued before Gaia’s altar,
Earth Mother’s bi-annual sacrifice.
Born to the house of a chief,
A happy child, dirty, unkempt,
Once chosen her father wept,
For Druids, none are exempt.
Tributes shrouded in secrets,
Druids answer to no one,
Those who suit their whim,
Are offered to rekindle the Sun.
Blood drenches the altar,
The end of an Innocent life,
Simply another poor victim,
Of a Druid’s dark humming knife,
Dark Edge of Poetry 