rhiannon
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I run, I chase, I climb the tallest of mountains, I ford the heaviest of streams. Still, that goal, that hope for a brighter day, seems ever further. As I struggle in my strife, my mind reaches to you, and I call out, “Hope, for the fool you love most, won’t you stop?” And as
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All it takes, is a simple word, a request to slow, and you bring your horse to a canter. I climb astride, firm in my faith that I am safe with the Great Queen, and together, we tred the line, between this world and Annwfn.
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To catch your stride, one need only ask, a hand extended in help, to those brave enough to ask. Mother, Queen, Consort, Rhiannon, your grace and guile guide me, and when I am low, you extend a hand, lifting me off the ground.
Little Rabbit's Glen 