Caer Ogfran.

Time and tide were right; a tide of old time, out of time… As befits such things that have a need to come to fruition.

Encouraged by those Beyond, who call; like to like, and cannot be ignored, or explained away with a flippant remark, nor a mere gesture of the shoulder.
No, this was no bad meat, sitting heavy in the pit of the stomach. This… was something… more. It expected an answer…
Have you ever put out a call to arms? Wondered if it would every be heard let alone answered? Like to like, out it went… there! Done! Lap of the Gods and all that… walk away, done now, do not look back. Expect nothing, but do it anyway. Done…
Make your own plans and stick to them. Let no one nor nothing put you off. Tell no one. Silence… is golden.
A journey was made. Old territory walked and the ways rekindled in the memory of footsteps long gone. Here, they worshiped. Rang the Church bells, married, christened, buried.
Tap.tap.tap… Wake up! 


Here they walked, went to market, sold, bought, laughter, complained, chatted, gossiped… Saw old friends and relations, doft caps and shook hands over deals done, favours granted. Young became old.
The weave was woven.
tap.tap.tap Wake up! 


In this street was the Gunsmith… Somewhere. In that street was another, who owned the field behind, a cark park now, but once the Smithfield. Once walked by a little girl and her Grandfather; the stench of animal dung and urine in her nostrils, the sounds of men’s voices; Welsh, English, cursing, shouting, arguing and laughing, spelling in and out of the pub on the corner…
tap.tap.tap Wake up! 
A journey. Well past dusk. Would the gate be locked? No, look here, it is ajar… It’s not far to the grave, the head stone so distinctive…

tap.tap.tap Wake up! 

The wind rises, tossing the tree tops about like wild things possessed. You are aware of Shades watching… awake now they know you. A young man, smart in his military uniform lays his hand on your shoulder, his voice full of poetry as the tears wash across your face, cold in the wind. His words steel the reserve and onwards … Onwards …

She looms large in the night, laying there, her voluptuousness rolling like a well rounded Goddess of the land. She loves you, and you her. You know every inch of her body, as a lover does… and she is waiting for you… Languishing and awake…
tap.tap.tap May I? 


The winds rush around you, hair writhing like Medusas snakes.
tap.tap.tap we are wake! 


Time does not exist only this moment; long… Stretched… The world reels and revolves and spinning the soul looses and is released … Soaring on the winds.

Dark tattered forms

Swords drawn

Advance

The young man besides you, smart in his army uniform, adujust his peaked hat firmer on his head, one warrior to another in mutual respect. Y o u… Are the gate… open.
They are awake. Waiting and ready, to go forth and do what must be done to keep the materialistic world at bay! 

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