Whoever wishes to walk, into the Grey, to forget themselves
Whoever has sorrowed a loss, and has been betrayed, and needs help
Gwyn Ap Nudd is King
Of many realms
The Grey, The Faeries, The Dead
Of many realms
The Grey, The Faeries, The Dead
Where anything is everything
Where fear is simply a moment
And joy is forever
He is mysterious
But knowing
Dark and foreboding
But true
The Wild Hunt restores the primitive soul
And the feast following restores the union
Of society and beast and gods together
Throw away the chains that have tamed you
Surrender only the fears, pains that claim you
Gwyn is the Wild Huntsman and is Master
Of this Wild Great Hunt
Unleash your self
And throw away your civility
For you were born for more than being servile
Because this is your opportunity, the only one left
Be yourself, be who you were meant to be
This is the final step, to enter the Grey
In all the waking moments
And all the dreams and nightmares
Humans have ever had
Now is the sole time
The only time
Worth having
And being wild
Love with every ounce of soul
Be, with your every moment
Know, because you are worthy
Take control
And then let go
(This is written about a pre-Christian era time in Europe particularly Celtic Ireland and Britain. I am still a Christian, I am not switching teams, this is just to let the people who inevitably write me that I am fine and there is no need to wonder or worry.)
