The Role of the Bard

Taliesin Wordweaver

Like the wind in the leaves I shall sing to the trembling skies,
and illumine the past like the bonfire's flickering flames.
For my words that are wide as the ocean must open your eyes,
and remind you of all whom the earth has reduced to mere names.

I unburden myself of the echoes of memory's song,
like the fragile reflection of flowers on watery skin.
I am asked to bear up under stories uncounted and long,
and remember for others what dwindles and slowly grows thin.

I retain but the shards of the sorrows and joys of this life:
To record is my role, to recount is my task and my place.
I recall from the blade-edge of Time's most implacable knife
all the visions and lullabies crossing our memory's lace.

So we gather by moonlight, and listen today to the past,
and we wonder if we shall disperse like the sparks of our fire
or escape to the sky in the shape of a cloud and be cast
like the raindrops rejoining the river in timeless desire.

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