Almost the final poem

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The Merlin 

stands silently 

by the fire

waves roaring beneath them 

beating the rhythms 

of the ancient ones 

to the majestic cliffs of Brittany

 

„She’s your guide 

for the next leg of your journey,“ 

he says 

while the woman in black 

is staring into 

a pair of amber eyes 

through the flames

 

In an instant

that glare sweeps her 

back to a familiar place

up a hill where erect rocks 

reach for the stars 

and she feels a crazy urge

to dance naked among them

 

She blinks

and hears 

the Merlin’s words 

like thunder dying

in the distance

„It is time to start your work, 

Morgaine.“ 

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