Our
language of love
The bottle of dreams
We fought side by side No one had more
Sharper consonants than you,
love And my vowels, well,
were trusted
First
comes the birch Rowan followed by the ash
Run through the alder she forms
And merges
with we love
The thorn blossoms As the oak guards the door
She is the hinge on which the year swings He courts the lightning,
flash and high
Summoning the spirits through
incantations
You said that thunder God seems to have
In our enemy his own laureate But we
knew the fury's held the holy sacred
We were insulated In a circle of
words we'd drawn
With wisdom sent from nine hazes A rowing fire and a wheel o' rod
Then comes the vine That generates brown bovine
The constant change of the night sun
A song in the blood of the white bull
Our language of love
The
bottle of dreams
We fought side by side No one had more
Sharper consonants than you,
love And my vowels,
well,
were trusted
From ivy leaves
Is an ale that can unveil
The hidden meanings and serpents
Only
revealed through visions
As vowels could insert
A was for the silver fur
The furs of goose then came next
With heather at her most passionate
The white poplars give
To the
souls
of the dead
A promise that it was not the end
But for the vine, the yew,
its coffer
Vowels and consonants The power of trees
The power they hold The power of prose
The reed gave way then
To the elder
The earth turns her wheel So that night
follows day
From dawn to dawn From winter to winter
That day the ash had power over The altar
Our language of love
The bottle of dreams
We fought side by side Then he said
to me