I dreamt of her.



She was swimming in a very cold lake, down to the depths, but she was whispering strange things to me all in a language I couldn't understand logically, but could.. Feel the meaning of.

Suddenly, the dream changed, and I stood in a silent forest, listening. The sagging pines were heavy with wet ice on them, and the ground was being blanketed from light snowfall.

I sought her out, and suddenly she appeared as if from nowhere in front of me. She was adorned in a sage colored hooded cloak, wolf pelts, and opal jewelry.

She danced, weaving between the trees, and at her feet was scattered a mist of silver. When she'd touch the trunk of a tree, hot sap would begin dripping from the pine needles, melting the snow where they dropped, sprouting white wild flowers from the ground. 






I can be your Mithríl.

Your Armor, and Shield.




I will protect you from the sting of the Arrows of Life; 

The piercing of Sadness' Sword;

The pain from Daggers of Betrayal.




I can be your Mithríl.

Your Cloak, and your Protection.




If only You will be my Ithildin; My Star Moon. 

The Light and The Mist. The Wind and the Scent.


Ephemeral, but ever constant.






The Forest is a Cathedral.




Its canopy, a painted ceiling
Where Gods meet Man.

Trunks of Trees; Pillars of Marble
Connecting Earth to Heaven.

The song of the Wilds; a chorus chanting
Small music of the Spheres.




The forest is a Cathedral.




The colored leaves are as stained glass
Streaming through with the warmth and light of the Sun.

The pooling rains, a Sacred Fount
Holier water than could ever be made.

The rivers; my Communion
Hands in the soil, covered in Earth; a deep magick found in the mundane.




The forest is a Cathedral.




Breathing and Flowing, Living and Dying.
Here, I walk, to learn of the Fates.


For no other Temple holds my Heart as this space
Cradled in Leaves and Shadow.





Every beginning has within it the seeds of its own end.



Understand that your words and the language of your tongue are literal forms of magick and influence in the world around you.

Summation of thought is existence at nascent, and to speak on it devises creation, be it for harm or otherwise.


Your words are carried by the wind, heard by the Earth, reverberated through the aether and echoed out for the rest of eternity.


Wield your divinity, but respect and understand your power.