I found myself being guided towards his presence.  I had been searching for the perfect fit to my pagan life for sometime before it became known to me exactly whom to give my prayers to.  He had silently pushed me into his awareness through a summer of joy.  It was not until I found myself returning to school and out of the sacred woods I had worked in, that he made his presence fully known to me.  This is the most intimate expression of love I have ever known and dare not give it up again.  I think that I came to a point in my path where I could flounder no longer waiting for the gods to tempt me into their arms.  And so in one dream he showed me the park that I came to know as the Goddess's embrace by the shores of Lake Superior.  I also found the quiet diligence of Herne of the Greenwoods.  He stood as the buck and the deer ever watching me.  A cause for grief on the roadsides.  I was witness to the constant presence of the smells of summer and the traces of time where I felt not quite alone.  I had few friends that came close to seeing what I could in the woods.  So my journey from safety to school made me see what I had been feeling all along.  And when my heart fell heavy with thoughts of the past, he came announced as the Greenman to my dreams finally, with remembrance.  For now I feel and recall many times he visited me.  But it was not time.  This may all seem a little bizarre and extreme for some to think of.  Let me tell you it all seemed such a mystery to me, foreign in the encounters.  But as time passes I realize it was not the shock of his awareness but the shock of such simple love that he finally offered to me.  So I began learning about the old legends and stories of Herne and the Greenmen that cover cathedrals all over old Europe, but I prefer much to make my own.  And so I share this poem, entitled 

Celtic Love.

Oh great stag you fill me,

with thoughts of power and of passion,

my stolen kisses look to extend beyond all boundaries

here lies my secret

as I draw you near in my tender embrace

protector of my forests

you call the hart as master

and live one with all creatures

captured by your gaze I fall silent in your arms

and look for no man to give me more pleasure than only you can

for you offer me no circumstance to which I find fault

our summer embrace now but memory

as you let your kin call me to the beach

to where I would see your harvest

and only then could the great man the great god call me his and I do the same

with my whole being I now go to meet you under your oaken breath

as you offer me sweet kisses

and sure embrace

hold me fast green man and let me linger in your arms

this is a dream of profound calling

as I hear your hounds in the distance

wild woods growing viney tangles to shield our secret love

and I give you my rapture

for you are the greenman caller of my dreams 

answers out of the foggy dreams surreal scape

I hear the whisper on the wind as you approach

silent pathways to this lonely trail

I look behind the trees and through them

my senses alert to the thin veil that shields my eyes from you

each night I come to walk your path

more sure in step each time it has been taken

pondering from whence you came into being and for whom

what other lovers do you take this night oh great stag

for I am not your only but know that my jealousy lies unprovoked

my heart pounding with worry of being forgotten

lost embraces and tender kisses I wish to have mine alone

so that I take him from his herd

and be his queen alone

let them serve another so that I may keep his attentions

of a woman's vanity I now find

what foolishness I linger upon

I am not the common woman

for I am as proud as he with the great horns

reaching to the skies my cry breaks the silence of enchantment

what beast what animal makes these cries of torment

I know that it is I wondering pondering my fate within the glen

I cannot leave my woes of the other life I lead

the charade never alluding the reason why I sought his bliss

and he knows this for in strength he chooses to make me weak

the bitter stubbornness subsides in me the moment he breaths his words to ears

I ready for that forgotten passion

so unaware of the gifts his love bestows in the waking hours

but his love and his arms seem empty to me when my heart lies so heavy

I cannot let go of my past

I cannot give into the future of which he asks

and wait like the patient doe by his side

my life is not like that of a creature so divine

so feminine she walks knowing her sire

not fearful to give into the wood because that is all she knows

my cages have long bound me and so I fear that of which I should know

and I should know him

I feel as if I do as if I have

but only recently waked though miracle

and have shed my masks

only to gain another with his teachings

one of the greenwood

one to where I can fly upon the eagles wings

and take the shape of any creature with him beside me

I come by night to this tree

alone in the grove with moon's belly so full overhead

at first by candlelight flickering in the winds that sweep through the rustling canopy

but in time my white candle was replaced by something more instinctive

something of great knowledge

of fleeting feet I know my sureness grows bolder

to walk among the night as child to the earth

behind the mask of green leaves and hushed kisses

we walk hand in hand

his figure cloaked like mine behind the shadows

as we talk he places his hand through my hair

drawing me near as I cradle him about the waist

not wanting the moment of our oneness to depart

not wanting to let go of my earthen god

my cape sweeping the ground behind me

a rush of fallen leaves in our wake

twirl and flutter back down to conceal the nighttime walk

even I could not find the traces of the night were I to call the master's hounds

so to the hunt it seems is my love

could I find it anywhere but here in my enchantment

silvaneous you are a great huntsman for you have shot the sling

and your arrow has struck perfectly to my bleeding breast

with the sureness of the slung arrow 

my babble breaking pause to look once again into your unyielding eyes

my shield you know that I am the least demanding of your does 

for I only wish to be loved

all the others find protection as well

but in this weakness I think that  you find a facet of yourself wanting to

and so I let you

knowing your great duty I am not ashamed to let you fight my battles

but there is no need to hear the clacking of horns charging

for my heart and my will is reflected in my movement

nothing lies as plain as I am

but beneath the canopy when it is just you and I

there can be nothing more complete

and more intricate than the tracing lines of the knotted vines

Celtic love seems timeless and so I grasp my hands to yours

curling your secret palmed flowers into mine

pressing them into a sensual floral gift

of dew this is the honey the mead of life

two lovers under a great tree

and so my hand traces the lines in your palm

feeling eons of meetings passing beneath the circling night sky

my fragility never so apparent as but when I am in your gaze

even under the chill spell of the mists

I never felt warmer

like a cover of great fur there is a warm wind that blows when you are near

so we watch the spirals gild the dance of the eons that pass beneath the trees

together you and I are timeless

the fabric of the evening woven with the imperial stag

ever present our time always so short

so I hold onto the next night when I become your bride

each night the meeting is ours alone to cast

and make the circle close as I drop to the ground to feed the flames

burning inside me I give release

and when I do I hold off till the last possible moment

for when I do he is gone

my eyes wakened by the pain of futility

trying to place his seed into a locked box

but it is like smoke as his last hurried kiss leaves me empty

leaves me clawing hungrily for the distance to be closed

waiting for the warm winds to blow again upon my neck

I tear at the ground this of this oaken embrace

curling up into a shivering ball

stripped of all human warmth

for my heat was given to the nights exchange

I grasp my cloak wondering how I had found this tree in the dead of  darkness

for it lies in a different place each night

but the whispering winds tell me that I will find it again

its not the last of the ambrosia kisses

my mask of leaves lies beside me

a gift of his pledge and protection to wear when he is needed

so that I may see

I am fearful of growing to fond of it lest it be taken from me

and I know that I do not need to wear it because I have the cleverness of the doe

I can sense him near when he watches and no mask needs to tell me my lover is here,

this is the gift of the enchantress for I have him,

and he has me in his cloak

safely hidden from the harms of the places that live beyond the forest,

with each night time calling comes a whim of excitement,

letting the dreams slip by into the daylight,

dawn yields myriads of voices in the woods,

and the mists rise to the sun making the midnight sun vanish,

and with it the eyes of my lord,

until I seek again temptation and love

or he seeks me.