Across the silent stream 
Where the slumber-shadows go,
From the dim blue Hills of Dream 
I have heard the west wind blow.

Who hath seen that fragrant land,
Who hath seen the unscanned west?
Only the listless hand
And the unpulsing breast.

But when the west wind blows 
I see moon-lances gleam
Where the Host of Faerie flows
Athwart the Hills of Dream.

And a strange song I have heard
By a shadowy stream,
And the singing of a snow-white bird
On the Hills of Dream.

(From the Hills of Dream by Fiona Macleod)

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Awaken within the dream, O Ancient One, remember yourself. Shake the slumber that has kept you a prisoner of the Mind. For eons you have dreamt the dreams of Earth. For eons you have forgotten your true nature. Remember who you are, O Ancient One. Hear my voice, the sound of waves crashing on the … Continue reading Ancient One

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