Index

Internet Book of Shadows, (Various Authors), [1999], at sacred-texts.com
THE MOONPOOL -
It is a lazy, restful time here in the forest glade.
The sun is departing, the stars arriving and the trees are a darkening jade. -
An air of buzzing, drowsing stillness invades the meadow, lends weight to my head as I settle down - bedroll, backpack and strains of music are seemingly played. -
A deep, cool, dark pool is here, mirror clear, reflections of skies, as peace fills my mind, my soul and sleep gently touches my eyes. -
I know not whether I was awake, or in dream or how much time had passed, when I felt the magic of this place camped there, upon the grass. -
No sounds - no crickets? (The Music!)
As the Moon awakens the pool, so bright.
Why this anticipation, premonition, this magical feeling, this ghost haunted night? -
Then, a siamese cat enters the meadow- silver grey, regal compusure, flowing lines.
And somehow I know - I see intelligence and wit, and power, as she looks into my eyes. -
How does she speak without speaking?
But somehow, she communicates good will, and cheer.
'Stay quiet, childe of man.', she says.
'Be still - you are but a guest here.'
Then a parade of feline musicians wandered in singing from the right.
I shake my head *bedazzled*; Am I dreaming, or mad?
Why me - here to witness this eldritch sight?
THE MOONPOOL (cont.) -
A troupe of dancing, cavorting gnomes made their appearence upon a rocky stage.
And following them : silver clad, haughty elves accompanied by a wizened old mage. -
Now, many strange but noble presences made manifest on that starlit night in June.
And I witnessed and heard sweet music, high magic, secrets until dawn, with the passing of the Moon. -
And the high bred Queen of Cat Folk smiled with warmth, and left.
Left me shaking with these visions, and nodding, I finally slept. -
I return often to these stately woods, seeking but never finding the sacred pool, so bright.
It makes me sad - very sad to think that it was but a dream, a peculiar night. -
But sometimes, at the edge of sleep, soft music slowly beckons, and calls.
And I know with every fiber of my being that I will again visit these magical sylvan halls
1863
