Prayer for Netholm

I write this prayer for the White One
who loaned to me a mare of mist,
led me across the marsh of time
and granted me the seer’s gift.

I write these words for the god
who led me through the rising mists
to find the lost island of Netholm
midst the floating will-o-wisps.

I write these words from Netholm
looking across the rippling mere
to lights of halls and farmhouses
mixed with ghosts and flickering fear.

I write this prayer for Netholm,
forgotten island in the mist,
for the drained off mere, the bulrushes,
bitterns, cranes and fishermen.

I write this prayer for the souls
of the long forgotten dead
who greet us still in the fields,
wandering roads and haunted farmsteads.

I write these words for the guide
of the long forgotten dead
whose stories must be told
for future hope to live.

Brockholes in the Mist II

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