Church

My church in the forest
The ritual my circle
The river the cornfields
The standing stones where
Beyond the sky
My unending kingdom
Below the sod to the core Where some lie

Where bones of the dead
Many victims of history
Lost on the battlefield
Sacrificed too
Druids a casting their sticks for divinity
The future known really to only a few

According to The Romans
These wisemen were godly
Magickal white bearded robed up to see
Prophets and seers hokding fears for so many
They knew the spirit world inevitably