The Wild Flame of West Hannon

... was once known far and wide and as all other this name was forgotten, yet it was once born and the owner of this name once walked this earth. A woman or a man, no one remebers, as all other it has been forgotten. Under a great oak lies the last one, who could tell: "Rosemary". His last words he took with him, till the end not speaking this name for it burnt his lips. This flame he buried deep in himself and walked trough life alone with a face calm and cold, always feeling a hand in his hand and all of his being being held safe and warm.

For he had not known, why he knew and why he could feel and oh, feel so much and never see anything but a face in his dreams, hear in those realms this name and recognise this land as her´s, him being a visitor by her will. A will, what had seen trough him and heard his heart whispering, asking for a place to belong to, people of his own.


He walked trough life with eyes on the ground, his heart gazing at the Sun, till he closed his eyes with a smile uncanny to rest his final rest, in her arms atlast.

Now the field rings with music for ears that wish to listen and in the shade of the great oak one´s eyes that wish to see may rest upon a sight beautiful and fair - two lovers sleeping, a maiden sweet resting her head on a shoulder of a young man softly smiling.