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And she walked in the early grey misted morn
and knelt at the rivers edge
she gathered soft flat rocks
sixteen small stones
Rinsing them in the slow current
and tucking them in her pocket
she gathered herself and walked
While in that walking, she thought
of mystics and muses before her
of magic and laughter
and of the full moon that floats
somewhere in the morning sky
hiding, waiting to shine forth
this very night.
When she walked through the door
of the moss clad cottage
she climbed the squeeking stairs
to the loft room and she scuffed the stones
to make a smooth side
and she lay them out on the bed
and annointed them with cedar oil and
wiped them in water collected on
the first of May
She then inscribed each stone
with a symbol from The Old Ones
The Celtic shamans
When finished she gave herself
a reading from the new oracle
she had created, and when done
she layed the stones on the windowsill
in order to soak up the energies
of the full moon light
And now the Celtic stone oracle
sits and waits to tell stories
from old times
stories of healing and miracles
of old bones and river stones
of magic and laughter.....
These stones made on the full moon
in honor of a magnificent, magical
and spiritual past.
Floating on dragonfly wings.....
Oh what is it about the green of shamrocks that sets my heart to spinning? ~ I'll se ye in Ireland !
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