In a wise diviner's hand,
The forked hazel stretched apart.
Feeling, sensing what's beneath our vibrant land.
Sensing living waters carving an alignment chart
Of its flow from the divine earthly heart.
Hazel-wand tracing the thread of the veil,
Guiding, the diviner's trust as it casts its spell.
We pass slowly, silently though this dara vale,
Trusting, anticipating, this old ways miracle;
Finding that point where the living waters becomes a well.
Hazel is of a mercurial spirit
A wise sprite, bringer of insight.
Flashes of inspiration, invites us to discover many things.
Entering into the dreaming within the forest,
A hazel tree sang to me,
Touched me with its fragrant fingers,
Stroking my dream, calming my dream,
Closing the wounds of blood that had clouded my dream
Breathing air, touched by the hazel,
Charged with quicksilver energy,
Charging me with exhilaration and inspiration.
Hazel charged my spirit to pulsate,
A catalyst, a transformer, a bard to relate,
Ways to crack any situation,
Like cracking a hazel nut shell
To feed from its nourishment inside.
Pure nourishment,
Pure goodness,
Pure knowledge,
In a nutshell,
All of the ways of wisdom, we can pass on.
I was now the diviner,
I had discovered my source
Of language, poetry,
And music, of course.
Mystics say anyone born under the sign of the hazel
must never hoard their treasure.
Its nuts, the fruits of knowledge,
Must be shared for learning and for pleasure .
Play with the thoughts and dreams of others
From social causes, to capricious lovers,
But be careful, word wizardry can cut!
Remember, your wisdom is inspired by a nut.
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