War

Hymn to Dagda, the Big Bellied One

All hail to Dagda, wisdom's endless well,
in whom life and death together dwell.
Your cauldron holds the universe entire,
Your harp breaths into life it’s singing fire.

Oh Dagda, guide us as we seek the Way.
‘Tis cause your grace that night unites with day,
that winter weds herself to summer’s glow.
and seasons flow into eternity.

Your club, the gift of life and death's decree,
does mark the rhythm of the star’s orbits.
Enjoined in Mother Danu’s sweet embrace,
your dance the play of energy and space.

Oh Dagda, in your light we trust.
You make complete what seems unjust.
Oak and seed in you are one.
You are the moon, you are the sun.

O praise to Dagda, good allfather.
In your presence, we find our home.
In your song, we find our name.
In your hands, we find our peace

I

in blood and gold in screams and praise war’s truth
the fevered dreams of kings see but its gleam
of fame and wealth its promises of peace
or drunk with rage they thirst for sweet revenge

the awen flows through blood and steel alike
a druid asks if striving’s worth its loss
if hope has led too many to the slaughter
if victory is but fleeing from the truth

II

amidst the din of war who hears the chants
of druids gathered ‘neath the frosted night
in steel's dance both foe and friend are lost
and gain and loss are but two edges of one blade

war's glamor is a fleeting dream for more
that leaves but legless veterans in its wake
stop - listen to the whispers of the earth
let not blood but soil and song cake your flesh

III

within a crowd discord is quick to root
and words are cast to severe and divide
for frictions rise where two together dwell
disputes as old as water and the flame

but harmony in silence peace restores
be still all knots unravel of themselves
ignorant of the way return back home
in water’s course the druid finds his creed

IV

when fear and chaos seize the people’s hearts
the fire of us and them consumes their minds
they splinter further from the way of one
their arguments but Pyrrhic victories

do not understand nor be understood
do not separate your enemies from foes
like oak’s deep roots grow quiet in the dark
the way’s unknowing web the weft of one

V

there is no path to go from war to peace
the way ahead is but another fight
turn back and the old struggles lie in wait
stay still and be besieged by what's at hand

the druid gazes at the yew’s green leaves
forgets above below and all around
the instruments of war turn red with rust
words turn into the bubble of a stream