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The Powerhouse of Potential'If the Gods and Spirits are anything at all they are creative potential. Offering vision and power to those with the integrity to wield it, but make no mistake it is our truth that create's from this powerhouse and it is our lies and games that destroy it ! 
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Fallen Angel We came from heaven, falling from the sky Like angels tumbling through the night The seraphim’s scream their wrenching cry Forgetfulness now claiming its delight Oh how we wandered shaken and forlorn Our senses shattered from what was done The golden mantle now tattered and torn Our withered wings singed from the sun And how we yearned to sing the songs That sung the celestial realms awake Yet silence gripped our tethered tongues Like dying swans on poisoned lakes What of prayer and gods covenant to man When so much suffering upon the earth Our arms spread wide to touch the land Our hearts entwined to her rebirth This pain was caused by us after the fall The gaping wound not well disguised As we wait for harp songs budding dawn The woe within her darkened eyes And now we know the plight of every man Of how it feels when praying to the wind It’s only God that knows and understands How angels cry for every hand that’s sinned For every breath of life and love we take An angel watches dreaming of the day When we would raise our eyes and hearts again And kneel on bended knee to pray We would never want to see your likes again So far fallen from the firmament Your tears of love that washed our guilt away Returned at last to those that were heaven sent  Fallen Angel: Jolinde Nijland Photographer: Carlos diaz Poet: Y.Zsigo 'MagickalChild''The series of images and poetry entitled 'MagickalChild' is an exploration into revealing the essence of the people involved through imagery / art / poetry, creating an invocation through Magickal intention to birth an aspect of themselves into the world'
Click on 'MagickalChild' link on blog to see more Dreamweaver I 'What if i told you i had a dream and in that dream i found myself dreaming and in that dream i found myself dreaming and in that dream i found myself dreaming.
Until finally i awoke only to find myself dreaming !' * * * * Ode to Herne Oh, to dream of Herne and the pleasures there in, Lies a selkies dream of oak trees daubed in golden mistletoe. Tales tell of sweet honey nectar, Drawn from parasitic roots leaves and berries. Mabon be the child, That on the day of its kindling, Be bathed thrice in the sacred pools of Annwn. Harpies call to those such as these, That ponder plant life and poetic in their searching, Seek the gift of the Golden tongue. Taliesin’s tempered telling, told of tales, Twinkling in twilights tasting. Amergin quelled with rosemary rhymes, Of gifts to be taken, With those who dare to dawdle down dingily dells, Of dew drops dripping from the lips of the Queen of Fay. You my Queen of all hearts seeking, Who’s bed of pettaled pou porri pours pleasures on my thick skin. You the Queen of summers game , Wild huntress of the morning. Rise up from your Fairie fort and shower me in blessings. Wide eyed wandering wonderers of willow trees winding their spindling vines, Through nooks and crannies of old wives tales telling. Deep into this sodden earth and boulders of basilled breads burnt backing, Betrothing of their making. Worms of wooded wild wilderness, Intent on investigating. Baal and Bacchus,Dionysius dreaming, Arianrod, Hecate ,Demeter’s distant calling. Lead us through this Devic dance onwards towards your dwelling And there beside the Queen of Fay, My bed lies for the making. 
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