A DOORWAY IN AN APPLE TREE

Have ye forgotten your roots? Bound, yea, they are bound in the ancient secrets of the Christians of Skye. His name was olde and it was also new, and secret and scented like the flowering petals of the apple tree in spring! And he could sing... with a voice as alive as any tree or flower... as alive as any wild and growing herb, or fruit or vegaetable could be. Created to life, by a God far superior to men and women. A God of Heaven, Lord and Creator, a God whose mind is in far excelling of all other thinking men. His mind is the mind of all men, his is the light of mind, eternal, to far exceed what any bard can do. What any druid might dream of.

Men and women mention the word "bard" or "druid" and immediately they have visions of Irish moors and dreams of Irish castles. But those who know... know that the light of mind intersects several beams and not in one land and culture only.

Moving into several realms of dancing particle of light, we see the Welsh, then the Irish, then the Scottishman and followed by the englishmen. Aye, and that not set in stone- and the wise will see and understand that the lights across the moors of Scotland sing of wind and water, of the stone castles

And the plum trees and apple trees of the land need only to discover the secret of a word sung low, sung with the tenderness of innocences.

Do not boast, do not brag that you are this or that. Not a druid... not a bard... not a magician. For if what you are is real, there is no need for the boast, no need to secret the wind back to her nests of wild, lonely beaches in a land that time forgot.

Skyephire is Paul. A dreamer of Skye, a child born of the Sapphire. Man of God, humiltiy-cloaked figure, lover of his brethren.

Dream, if you will, taste the sky and its smokey fires on beaches born of invisible sapphire. Sung about in mythical and myth.

Come, if you dare.. take the doorway in an apple tree. You will ony see that once, and its voice will know if you are a true one.