I stumble through the veil,
I stumble through the darkness,
I stumble through the mist.
At my feet lies a severed head
with a long very Celtic moustache.
When I kneel to close the staring eyes
it turns from flesh to starry stone.
I glimpse a shooting star falling.
This is a land of pain and beauty.
I am standing in deepest indigo.
Land, sea, sky, are one
and filled with jeweled stars.
Two eyes appear,
the shadowed block of a nose.
She holds me between her thumb
and forefinger takes my measure as I
tell her I am an awenydd of Gwyn
and walk an Annuvian path.
She shows me the Lake Region
through which all souls pass,
the water spirits, the water horses,
all the offerings that have been made:
swords, armour, cauldrons,
the words of awenyddion,
the floating corpses.
These are necessary to creation.
She shows me the meteor
that brought the first waters to earth.
“Did you bring this from the darkness?”
She smiles an enigmatic smile
very much like Gwyn’s
and sends me back on
the Star-Strewn Pathway
that leads neither up