I Am A Storey Teller

Seated round the smokey fire
Faces clouded by curling wreaths
Attentive faces focused listening
While I spin threads of myth and fancy
For this is what I was meant to be
Bred in my bones to tell the tales
Told to me
Entrusted to me
To ensure their preservation
I trained for this
Practiced long
Weaving words in the warp and weft
With faltering threads
Drawn on this loom I was given
Around this stoney circle
And wrap it over encircling shoulders
Drawing ever closer
While casting out to dare the darkness
To come no further
I pose an invitation to partake with me
The substance of what I recite
Join me while I draw you in
And make the circle whole.