Dreaming Spell

I did not find it deep in hallowed ground
But found it in the surface forest loam.
I stumbled on its sharpness, felt the edge,
That still was honed to wetstone severance.
Untouched by time, a wedge of ancient bone.
It had been made a thousand years before
Or even more, ten thousand years maybe.
Its surface bore the scratched deep marks
That might be runes or other antique signs.

And placing it beneath my pillow I, made
little rhymes to see what I might spy.

Old tool, cold tool,
Bone formed thing
Found in the forest loam
Bring dreams into my home
So they may sing.

Old stone, cold stone,
Ancient edged flint
Found neath the barrow
Give dreams by the morrow
And do not stint.

Old axe, cold axe
Meet to my fist
Found neath the earth
Give dreams without dearth
I will not resist.

Old soul, cold soul
That once spilled blood
Found neath the sacred ground
Give dreams as stars go round
Evil or good.

Take me, make me
All I have been
Free from the silt of me
The ancient ecstasy
The roots of green.

Break me, remake me
Age upon age
Whirl round the wheel of night
Dreams on my soul alight
Muse fill my page.