To Gwyn:
On star circled Tor you stand lawless vigil.
Tower swallows cloud in your endless waiting.
Years I have run the edges of your world
Yet quietly my destruction you disdain.
Call to the stars shining out the full moon,
One blast of your horn draws my soul back home.
In your sublunar shrine springs from Annwn
Pour a cauldron of infinite wisdom.
Daughters of Avalon dance at its ridge.
Their shadows twist to the roaring song.
I see you, white keeper of time and mist
Watching patiently beyond mortal bonds.
The moment rings clear as your guidance sure:
Let the words be spoke and the path be walked.
Hail Gwyn ap Nudd, King of Spirits!
I have been to Glastonbury twice. I shall return at some point again. Gwyn ap Nudd is a fascinating archetype, you honour him well with this poem.