It wasn't blackest, bloody hell...it was the light.
And as it shone upon my face and it's warmth from cheek to chin.
I realised all the accepted lies concealed a bigger sin.
I accepted all the blackest truths surrounding all about.
And left the darkest circle cast in search of truths way out.
A pagan god of green and good became a devils skin of red.
And women who would teach a tribe to thrive were witches it was said.
Those who gathered secretly to sing a ritual sound
Were dragged to inquisitions court before being gagged and drowned
Yet in the mist of chaos wrought by those who said the truth they sought.
Came a stranger tale by far, for not all who practised were caught.
Fleeing to a foreign land that lay a thousand miles at hand.
Covans sprung from every state as feet would dance the muddy sand.
For bringing twenty first alive, the wise ones walk scapes far and wide.
Despite the twist of saints in awe, the celtic gods still stand with pride.
His first complete poetry collections, 'Age of the Warlock' and 'Social Hymn' are available to buy in e-book form now from: www.inspired-words.co.uk