No Masters, No Druids: A Poem by Benn

They all looked at me with such expectations,
I could see the hope in their eyes.
"The path ahead seems so great, so wide, so vast. Where do we begin?"
I was afraid to tell them,
That feeling never ends, I was afraid they would leave me,
Tribeless.

I looked into my own hands,
To see what I could offer them.
Ambiguity, wildness, confusion, step after endless step.
The tongues of their ancestors, rambling poetry, painful turas.
But no masters, no Druids.
The ones they wanted the most.

"I can only offer you company." I said,
"I have no masters, except the teasing De Dannans.
I followed the heels of no Druid, only the echoes of their whispers.
Doubt is my Hound of Culainn,
And perseverance my only sliothar."

I wanted at that moment, more than any other, to be more than I was.
I wanted to fill them with passion, and the great mountain view.
But the truth against my world was,
"I am still lost, how can I find THEM?"
Me, and the wandering nomad of the mind.
With my eyes fixed on the great mountain.

So I made an offering to my teasing Lords and Ladies of the mist,
And kept climbing.
Hoping, praying, yearning, and longing for the company,
Of my Tribe.
Straining to hear the crunch of their feet beside me.

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