(Nimue)
I met darkness on the hillside
Crouching low and heavy, unfriendly
In this landscape of ancient, nameless Gods
Who care nothing for human concerns
But stalk the wild ways in those long hours
When the world transforms in shadow.
Wood hunting wanderers, beings of awe
And terror. Vast and uncompromised.
Scuttle back to the small circle
Of protective light, the dark Gods
Will not trouble you if only
You do not seek them out, nor try
To summon, command or impress.
Know they are not for you, and curl
Into safety at the hearth side.
Hear their passing in the nervous bleating
Of huddled sheep – too tame for these
Uncanny hours and wilderness spirits.
Feel your smallness, your irrelevance
Enormity of hill, night, godhood
You are a speck in time, a flicker
Fleeting as the nearby sheep, fearful,
Alive and wise enough to recognise
What does not belong to you.
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